Poem By Sarah Eve

I have no shelter tonight,
but the milky portals of insight
which I guard unto a fault,
in which insights are but fighting fish
whose water is eerily calm.

And I have no meaning now
for these acts of cloudy fever
and their sisters and brothers abandonment
It is the sweetest and most skeptical
of your magnetisms.

And I’m breathing heavy now
Sighing with the release of honey and acid
And as this aces I’m sensing traces
of my hands in your hair
of these frivolous folicles

And imprints down my shoulder now
Softly brush across my chest to rest
at my centre and the base of my spine
Where I let them tingle just enough
and long-jump before they stick or bubble to a boil.

And all these moments now
Have there sanctioned places in another woman’s heart
Whose discontentment lies not so far
from the mailbox down her pathway
I’ll have one hidden of my own someday

And all these movements now
Run together like the fog that sweeps these hills
But never polishes them of their vulgar lights
And watches as we envelope
And pen the pre-stamped letter

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