Repeat me
and hold
the soft and sweet blush of these lips
never touched
never held in one's mouth
never blessed with sweet sighs
of remembrance.

There's a muse gone mad
gone missing
she's spent
and kissing the stones that I place
in the pools by your feet.
She is smiling and keeping her face
in the rushes.

To dream as you dream
to eat stars and taste moonscapes
to breathe in the breath you've exhausted
and oh
to pull terror in strings
from your hair and then
reel in your sun with it...

Dreams
they lay prostrate
alone in my fingertips
whispering hymns in blurred fragments
in pieces of souldust
and light and in colour
in glorious echo
and tangent
and cadence.



Your light makes this poem superfluous.

There is no more magic in letters and symbols
than there is in smoke
or in mirrors.


But oh
your words are the sparks
that put fire back into
my eyes...

09/21/2005

Posted on 09/22/2005
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia