Radial
I can’t draw a straight line
bodies aren’t lined
yet there’s a course to round
if my hands draw thighs
suggesting the St. Louis Arch
the same Cassiopeia at night as in
the slatted light in your bedroom
egg cartonned a captive grace
enough for expansion
as a road to a mountain
and maybe from obscurity
through the inadequacy of straights
your delicate smile appears.
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1 comment:
Lovely poem. Will link it uo at my blog.
Regards,
Sunil.
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