Spinning lovers lie in bounded time…

…break movement
and look on you, my dayspring,
lost in constant awe
of tears whose voices move
in perfect harmony and color,
shading these fingertips with light
and angel incense glistening:
A prism, softened
after the sun has set
upon this browned altar.

copyright 2002 j. bennett carnahan jr.

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This entry was posted in Poetry.

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