Life With Horace

poetry & essays

Sans Bliss

3 Comments

We were long split atoms
even then, the possibility of us
had ricocheted,
echoes of competing thoughts
a white sound mask.
Inexperienced, I flung
my satin stole of certainty
over each shoulder.
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

Author: Life With Horace

Poetry & Essays

3 thoughts on “Sans Bliss

  1. More metaphors from science. You employ them so well.

    Like

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