Puja

by on October 30, 2018 :: 0 comments

I know you’re somewhere.
Not here. Ceaseless. A slit,
a tear. Those sheer
appearances. Fast. Viral,
see-through. Constant. You.

Between our world: the mid
-point: living tissue. Gifted lips
to shoulders. Sketching: heart
–beat to beat: beast of lovers:
human offerings: puja.

Consciousness streams,
slips: frail. Temporal.
All the magic: in disarray:
in your absence:
my heart can do no less.

editors note: In the giving of worth, our offerings are scattered magic, designed to please (or appease). – mh clay

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