your face a pulpit
words silk
out of me
teach me my ear
teeth wrapping around it
worldly,
having eaten
foods of other soils
till me like earth
my mouth softer than cottons
holds your name
and time,
a skidding hash mark
black across gentle
begins to erupt
from our brows
I feel it is so
that life enters us all
in secret
no grand moment, symphonic
and gaping open
only a pleasurable morning
slung easily before
the watchtower of our want
faces pressed against
the glass, learning the pain
of color,
a prologue of hours
until we meet again
This is an amazing poem, you're face a pulpit is a such a compact line and you end on just the right note. Also, "The watchtower of our want" has such a wonderful flow of vowels and Ws - Thanks for sharing Lucy hope your writing life is as good as it appears.
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