“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
Sensation
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