Aubade by Gary Glauber
Aubade
Closed eyes convey
a silent language
amidst fevered dreams
of ecstasy and dread.
Distant chimes signify
a mad struggle,
an involuntary insult,
a reneged promise
in a land of familiar mystery.
The trial of morning
brings clinging belief
with clarity akin
to a glacier’s blue ice.
Beauty is maintained
with whispers, a feathered touch,
and thoughts of kisses.
Passion’s sweet vision
teeters on uneven edge
of fashionable tolerance,
a realm of hope and hunger
made more abstract
with each passing moment.
Venus swirls and forgives
wrong thoughts
in lieu of passing virility.
Certainty flies like ephemera
on rapacious tendrils of
unexpected wind,
softly knocking,
a noise of sensual irritation.
Let lost innocence recover
though a turbulent maelstrom
masquerading as sleep.
(first published in Sick Lit Magazine)
Comments
Post a Comment