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faithful :: dara wier

by on June 23, 2016

You come as close as the skin on my face,
As if you were a sure enough wind for me to walk into.
In woodgrain on a doorframe of a door I walk out of
You wander and I wander within you.
With luciferin, luciferase, and oxygen you light the way.
A mid-summer’s late evening scatters you so
That by midnight all of the stars that surround us
By morning are cresting by curving by blazing.
You’re light that’s passed through my eyes.
I see you in profile as if sharpened and stenciled
Examining creases in the palm of my hand.
Exchanging places in ground fog with black flares.
What is this translucence you’ve dropped between us?
When will some sure enough wind arrive to blow this curtain aside?


From → poems

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