and somewhat subtle
flesh of flowers
rub themselves
across my whiskered
face
as I pass the
branches
of forsythia.
The petals
on their
own accord
roll themselves -
curling
as they
grab the
stubble
on my cheek.
I wish
it were
gardenia
flesh
that spread itself
among my cells.
The fragrance from
that encounter
would hide
like the memory of
my beloved
across the miles -
in the recesses
of the mountain
crenelations.
Her image
is a scent
across the lineaments
of my heart -
all
the day
long.
I stand here
in the lengthening
shadow of her
ardent lingering
and long for the simple
stillness of her.
Cannot the heart
recreate the flesh
over time and distance;
cannot the hope of life
eternal fill the recesses
of the the soul's black-hole
and dark energy
leaning fully
into the quasar of all
expansions.
It is simple;
and, it is
somewhat subtle.
Feel for it in
the recesses of the early
morning dream departing
vapors and
swift image
evaporation.
It is there;
simple;
subtle.
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