memorial for a brilliant woman

Friday, November 02, 2012

Poem a Day November 1at

matchbook sonnet

Your bodyheat caught me unprepared,
the acrid burn of hell and heaven
as our elbows touched, I was consumed.

Defined by intensity, we played
pretend, lips sealed in understanding:
to match is not to go together.

Alone, I am incomplete, jagged
edge catching on the delicate gauze
our story wears in such circumstance.

You are my everyday devotion,
the scripture I carry in my hand,
fingerprints left on piano keys.

On the horizon a meteor
flares and disappears. We are done.

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