From Blue
Gravity
Publishing
Copyright 1994 Darren A. Lott
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To this, my last
incarnation,
I was born
late.
My lover, however, stayed on schedule,
joined the
world,
and died without
me.
Many times as a child I caught glimpse of
her
though she'd change her hair
or obscure her features with paint.
On leaving, she refused to hold herself intact,
denying the luxury of quiet
worship
before a single giant
redwood.
Three states to which her essence
wandered:
Solid, Liquid, Gas.
I've felt the smoothness of her skin,
when sliding against cool sheets.
She beckons for this secret tryst, but only
when the time to leave for work has past.
Spread so thin, I find it difficult to leave
her,
nor to gain a satisfaction with her
presence.
Sometimes I confuse her with God.