Seeds of Light

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I believe it is the poet's job to record the moments of life... even those most intimate moments. Perhaps others may relate. lmr

 
 
 
 
 
it is quiet now.
metallic seeds and prisms 
of light reflect off our
sweat...my head is
against some
dream
pillowed by
your right breast.
 
where am I when
Coltrane has left
the room?
 
        all I know is that I am
looming like a spirit, high,
seriously giddy and 
             soaring above
this wreckage  of
my body...
 
or maybe  I am tripping within
the narcotic haze narrating this
 
moment of amazement
 
 
safe,
      safely,
                safest inside your
 
arms.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
copyright © 2017 by L.M. Ross
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