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No frontier between dream and Monday:
you, closer than a stranglehold,
a bruise on my breast and
imminent pleasure,
(emanent as a neologism...)
us both attentive, mindful
and stranded at each other.
You always think the unspoken
at those moments when
I can almost reach that touchable
freedom of yours and want it, until...
new tides beckon
from my flushed belly:
orchestra of tremors here.
There, along lace curtains,
a choir of sunblinks at their flutters
on a still uncertain morning.
Your heart slows, prudently,
into laps of sleep
licking at the shores of us.
------
Of all known institutions, I attend only two: church, in my heart, and school, in yours. Both are subject to demolition. - Lucie Adams, 2007
It is only for poetry to know how many stanzas fit into one caress. - Lucie Adams, 2008
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Suspension
