Monday 6 April 2015

Ichor Left on a Forest Rock

I caught a glimpse
Of a nymph
And her boyfriend.

Spent a while
Damming bile
While I envied.

For her touch
Not so much
Do I crave her -

But her space,
Pagan grace
To be bloodless.

To inhale above the reaches
Of a single tethered coda
Coiled about a gnarled
Finger
Of dead bark,
That one day will be
Again.

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