of the soul is trepidatious
@ best. But_______
peace comes naturally
where you are.
I’m a pair of stockings with runs|
nearly calf to knee|
a stream of pale skin in a Stygian alcove
I like to imagine
we star A-list in each other’s movies &
our lovers’ arc is rediscovering seconds, minutes, details,
within a colorless bloom of solicitude.
[Time exists only before and after you & the prologue is oh-so-long.]