Here we are in the heart of it, love, 
  the hearkened rise of    aurulent dawn 

           all space and    weight    dissolved 

a denouement written with    lips and fingertip 

            on familiar curve and crevice. 

The blue morning    imbues the room 

with prismatic iridescence,    ascendant

       luminescence over our    languid bodies, 

            violet moons    under our eyes and 

tired limbs intertwined. 

Were it not for    a pale hair in the brush, 

      hasty photographs on a cracked screen

      or the lingering    sweat imprinting your body 

on the tattered mattress,    I’d believe 

          I had    dreamed it    all-

What but grace,    its tenderness without 

provenance or promise of tomorrow, 

     could answer for the    low moan    of breath 

and bones    restless    upon the quilt, 

quiet laughter in place    of attended sorrow? 

I understand now, the miracle 

that speaks not of light 

              but of what it shines upon. 

Here we are at the narrow doorstep 

of resolution    and remembrance.

      A brush of skin    brought out of shadow, 

                      inocciduous morning stars 

that cross but do not   



6 thoughts on “Indelible

    • In a few ways this poem makes me sad too, but I’m grateful it has the experiential foundation to even exist. Thank you for sharing in the sentiment.


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