where there is no turning away.
shadow of a nuptial moon fading.
You are last years leaves
and tomorrow’s blossom
the place where tongue still lingers
curves around a full mouth
blurs the edges of feeling with sensation.
You are the mountain’s spring
falling troubled into genuflecting river
searching for a space to soothe
the churning of unanswered metaphor
You’re the shadow behind every door I open
a shaft of sunlight striking dust from musted hands:
we are the light inside the silver sided mirror
our faces merge in contemplation
we touch our netted palms to one reflection,
then turn aside and walk alone these jaded city streets again.