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Summer Passion Thought
Eyes relax…close,
Staring into a depth pondered, yet unknown;
Rolling behind wavering lashes,
A breath floats through lips partially parted…
And another drifts out with the heat of summer;
Skin stirs, fringed with beads of sweat,
As the northern breeze washes over our moistening bodies…
Laying in the calm, the still, the silence.
Time measured only by the sound of each other’s breathing,
Smiles, disjointed laughter follow whispers neither can understand,
Feeling the feeling of these feelings,
The physical, the mindful, and seeking the mighty union of each;
Still not seeing;
The blindness of 20/20.
In this fragment, that we are;
Destined to fragment, chip away, erode, fall apart…
Like a ball of mud, created to stain the innocent,
And left to dry, crack, peel in the swirling sun fires,
Touching, parting, holding, shoving.
-The actions of thought
Her tiny finger- a paling tendril,
Brushing lightly upon my face,
Yet her expression remains blank, vague, broken…
Just as my very thoughts, feelings of her, about her, surrounding her;
Lying, twisted, paralyzed in contradiction;
And staring into the same blackness as before…
Into the deep, the shallow, that distant closeness we cannot escape.
"Time measured only by the sound of each other's breathing"---in 28 years of reading poetry, this is one of the most magnificent lines I have ever read. Your poem is very much like Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress" but much more contemporary/ Lime Marvell,y ou are obviously aware of the metaphysical and philosophical issues that surround the private encounters between two people who may or may not become lovers. Again, I can only wish that I would have had this kind of insight when I was your age.