warm liquid on my lips
succeeds the gentle tickle of vapor
as an aroma fills the first thought
a mask over another, which flows
like a slow river flows, touching boundaries-
a rich channel filled with gathers of life.
Sweet sensation on tongue
lifts an instant desire for more
even as the palate senses nuance
depths of realizing, a cascade
of pasts and presents; it is as time stays still--
when it moves so fast
the blur becomes a picture, the whirr a voice
an irritation of skin and air into
a touch so profound, and I return--
my cheeks between one woman's palms;
my Mother's whispered love,
the last time I kissed my Nana,
the first time I held my child
when
like a slow river flows, love
touches every boundary, in these... gathers of life.
2 comments:
Very moving, like the slow river flowing, seeming languid, but underneath a very strong current which carries one away. I started with the fragment, which seemed to me like recovery from anesthesia, lol, such is the power of fragments.
when we write, nothing is truly random- thoughts make a pathway. We may not always know we are knitting...thank you so much...PK
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