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Diagnosis

by Betania Tesch

Swollen petals,
left in your wake,
filled with the moisture
of breakages
your body wrought upon them.
Far from complaining,
I am declaring,
announcing for every open eye
to see the level
of the ecstasy
these--
now an egotist's war wounds from
the battle of our passions,
once joyful lifebloods
fresh and uncertain--
bring me to,
the bliss of my discomfort.
So, hark, hark!
It's all a giggling joyride
between two colliding stars--
so euphoric, so shameless--
the fiery dust of impact
filled with shards
of whispers and squirms.
So little resistance
to the idea of you--
I've given up on guilt--
that I nearly fly too far
and miss you with zealous speed,
but your arm extends
so eloquently
in stanza form.
This proclamation
is the announcement
of the poetry you deposited
in my body
and the diagnostic handbook
for anyone in love
and proud of it.

04/29/2002

Posted on 04/29/2002
Copyright © 2024 Betania Tesch

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