Painting by Paul Lorenzi
It is not the heart that bends,
bows and touches the nebulae
and almost half of this galaxy
with a delicate gesture.
It is not the heart that measures
the absolute, the unexpected dimension
of death when pleasure still kills amorously.
It is the body melting in the Milky Way,
crying over the spilt milk of yesterdays,
it is the body licking the stains on the floor
as our loving weak lips dream of the past
and ask for more.
Karla Bardanza
Copyright©Karla Bardanza 2012
Like an all consuming fire is the ache and want in this poem! EXALT!
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