Saturday, September 22, 2012

She moves through the room like a quick dream

She moves through the room like a quick dream
and I hear the floor's virtue. Her soft body
inhales the air and the scriptural lines

of her breast rise and fall. The broad library
of her being sings around me and between
the branches of the trees. I feel the dry

weather of the autumn, her eyes are wine
and body bread. The way she moves the candy
in her mouth and eats it, the mix of iron

in her blood. My vision is getting blurry,
I wipe my eyes. I want her to be mine
among the air. I wonder about the vanity

of the Sun or the sovereignty of love,
I wonder if this is only a quick dream.

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