Implicit Duet

That day, the poets had awakened with a sore time.
A fine, chilly rain of steps run,
entered through a gash open in memory,
thuding on their temples,
and the fingers, touching words, would return to their light
a viscous, feverish silence, throbbed in shadows.
A whole stampede of moments, in stabs like shards of stained glass
strewed the space with colours and the air burned
with voices and lightning, with faces in shuders, dissecting
in blood that is all but cold, the poets’ breath.
Then, the poets faced the healing blow as one would stop a thundering herd,
grabbing the alfa by the horns and catching its motion
in full, upon a bared chest.
And the poets coiled the incurable fragments of time in the depths of their bodies,
which they closed around it, as an embrace to die in the dance
while chanting rebirth.
Their soul, however, the poets opened, in wings of eyelids and the flight
was the downpour framed in the day, with sudden hints of sun,
when the core of pain, softly lulled
in a poem instilled with love, drop by drop
set the tears within the poets’ bodies to sleep and opened their lips
to a whole dream, redeemed and restored to its nature
always recited just the way it is written;
lucid, warm, free
and in (implicit) duet.

© 2005 Alexandra* ~ OneLight*® Authors & Creations