Life With Horace

poetry & essays


Sans Bliss

We were long split atoms even then
the possibility of us had ricocheted
echoes of competing thoughts
into a white sound mask
Inexperienced, I flung my satin stole
of certainty over each shoulder
So wrong headed, ignorant of
the deeper dance of lust and love
that shook its head
and left to visit other lives.
Tantalizing milkweed silk,
a fluted thrush note fading
every time I would have
ventured back.

for S