AWED

it begins vaguely green
the route between the salt and the fruit

ploughed of deliberate delays, of moments
perched upon the stern of the suspected tree

- as if the land were sea in awed view
of hands and lips, and the return would
bite the body’s shell with each wave.

and then comes the harvest
– when the scream opens in segments
and the nets are spread.

we are here, my love.

naked, with morning fallen, ripe
– now sweet and vaguely scarlet
between the shore and the skin…

© 2007 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®

***

Dear friends and readers,

With my wholehearted thanks for your most kind comments on my poem “THE BUOYANT PRECISION OF CHAOS”, I feel that I owe you both an apology and an explanation. Quite unintentionally, I seem to have conveyed – either through the poem itself or through the brief introduction preceding it – the impression that a fatality had occurred. However, and while thanking you, also, for all the expressions of sympathy that immediately followed, both in some of your reviews and in messages sent to my e-mail, I must clarify, with no further delay, that such has not been, fortunately, the case – there has been no fatal loss in mine or Joseph’s family. Although our loved one – to whom I make reference in the introduction – has been facing very serious health problems for quite a long time, and all the prognostics are still, at best, very guarded, there have actually been some positive developments during the last couple of days – which are now allowing a still faint but definite glimmer of hope to filter through the dim atmosphere under which the poem was written. So, once more, please accept my apologies for having, involuntarily, misled you, and, again, thank you, all, for your unfailing support. You are precious!

Love and warm {{{{{{{{hugs}}}}}}}}

Alexandra*