wanting to feel
even the dry rasp of winter skin
sliding across my palm
on this cold morning
wanting to know
there's more out there
than dead grass
nodding dully in the wind
wanting to wrap
your body in my arms
and feel your breath rising
and falling, like mine,
wanting to stand
belly to belly and chest to chest
as the world tilts toward winter
and the sun climbs and falls
not wanting to be alone
when the shadows grow
and the exhaled atoms
fall frostlike and cling
for a moment to the thorns
of the dark iced branches
and the echo of apocalypse
given birth in the heart
of a distant golden sun
light rushing past us
and as quickly
gone
Poem copyright 2010 by Tina Quinn Durham. Used by permission.
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