(Poem by Wendy Howe )

A collective strand of moonlit nights
I feel cooling my neck. You cannot see them
but there are pearls you can rub, count
for the days we loved, slept naked
shedding linens and ghosts,
mingling perfume and aftershave,
tasting the wine-dry darkness,
that swirled inside our glass temple.
The windows were shadow-stained
with flowering vines
and bird wings diagonally tipped, leaflets
that carried the everning's verse
of sea-wind and boat cradles
hushing the next day's journey. Departure
was fast asleep in our minds. We touched
eachother and the hours with vibrant light.

Fingertips matched, perfect aim and desire,
and I wanted to string their intimate
sensations together like this necklace
I wear , this gift you sent me
three weeks after the vacation
when your absence now rises
so bright and luminous
I feel the intensity. Can't you tell?
It's unbearable
as my hand drags slowly
over the breastbone, fingernails tracing
the vertical beam of a cross.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail.
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