L. B. Mek

Poetess: that most profound, Lioness



“In the kind of whisper that wouldn’t fog glass”

I quote poetic heights, I can never attain

Her acute poetic genius, blanketing my entirety


I too know of selfhood’s unreliable testimony

Only daring to sneak a glimpse

When finding a mirror in my peripheral vision


My smiles come with appointment cards

My happiness often delayed at the gates

Security checks

By my window a rainfall stampede, has me at peace

Looking up at a stainless summer sky, has me uneasy

I trust, belatedly


Yet, within her poetry’s vivid imagery

All possibility suddenly feels palpably, connate

I’m in a love with the eloquence of her veracity


Eyebrows as my fingertips

Each syllable I read, as if a worded silk caress

Unveiling my hidden parts


My stoic tendencies, surrendering willingly 

Enticed by her vulnerability’s sincerity 

Her art igniting a need in me, to appreciate 


Reading is too mundane a word

This intuit chemistry is more accurately

A communion, Poesy as conduit

Two strangers pulsing at a wavelength 

So undeniably n subtly attuned

It feels like in a past life I must have been 

Crimson ink 

To her artistry’s lava brush strokes, what a



A serendipitous gift, affording me vitality

Then breathless with unbridled anticipation

I’m immersed within her poetry’s waterfall 

Once again



© L. B. Mek

July 2023