Absolving The Eye

We drink to the night.
To tradition. To the lake's
tinsel. To the goose bumps
crawling across our skin.
To the palest moon
I have ever seen.
To nostalgia.
To the tapering of trees.
To the hand's eye.
To the constellations
which fling themselves out
across the earth's ceiling
like a suspended dream.
To the lakeside.
To the water's edge
lapping the shore.
To your wet, wet mouth
covering mine.

by Lisa Zaran

Comments (1)

Lisa Zaran conducts her prosody with seductive elation, carefully weaving her words with an original voice. She is a representative for a new generation of talented poets, all of whom possess the gift of creating ardent beauty.