floating in the arterial harbor
rainbow balloons bob
in intertwining pipeworks, I lost
the berry-lipped woman in the hullabaloo
I imagine she reclines back
in the gargoyled hotel, the leather dampness
of skin everywhere has not escaped me, the guilt
fishers cast all around, please, mercy
run your marrow over the muddy calendar
the days’ blades cut from light
bring me my eyelids, my circus
white poodle darting across
the cinnamon lobby, she’s never
so happy to see a slumbering me
learning to hold back my water waking
more in love than the morning before
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Written for Writer's Digest: Dreams
To me your poem feels like a reflection on the connection of guilt, love and the fleeting beauty of moments. Beautifully composed.
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