Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Untitled Poem

you filled my hands weightlessly
baby lettuces after misty rain
soft leaves flickering
cool flames against my palms
my fingers
a light cage catching
your moth wings
I peeked, hesitant

here is the church
here is the steeple
open the doors

Wrote this today... a bit raw, but a nice nugget.  Probably fictional, if I could quite figure out what I'm saying, but I haven't really gotten that far.  The sounds, sensations and the image of delicate spring lettuce leaves, and then gentle hands, carried me.

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