Love is a journey through waters and stars,
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Carnal Apple by Pablo Neruda
I feel the brush of
your hand as cold as winter’s breath,
glimpse you in lightning strokes through my window.
Your steps come and go down halls still echoing with sorrow.
So that you may see what is left of me
I’ve etched your eyes to mine.
We are more than two souls dismembered
by scythes of devastation that scattered
us like dried flowers.
He goes where gravity pulls him,
through shimmering curtains
like the wind.
He slips down her cheek like a teardrop
to the hollow of her throat into dreams
that fade like summer grass.
A conscious finger of stars,
imagined hands that reach for
mown fields, the brush of weeping willows,
the shimmer of a cool pond.