Looking Through the Ice
You speak love in a different language—
smothering guttural banging of bodies.
Such a ragged fragment.
Melding of aura, melding of soul—
non-contextual in that dialect.
Tenderness, the touch, the soft moan in the nape—
simple things people do for each other.
All these are not, just not, in the vocabulary.
You say, in the act, time cracks and we crawl through
to an ecstatic dimension.
How nice this must be for you.
5 thoughts on "Looking Through the Ice"
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terrific.
at the station of love –
nice for the one who arrives
sad for the one left behind
Wow! Really nice! Like “soft moan in the nape” and last line a punch.
I, too, like the prosaic last line.
“guttural banging of bodies” versus “soft moan in the nape” – what a contrast in mindset! Love that last line! It’s so unemotional, sarcastic even, and as far away from an “ecstatic dimension” as you can get! A short poem, for you, but it really packs a punch!
Thanks everyone, for these encouraging comments. I thought the poem did what I wanted it to do but it is always nice to hear that it hits other people just the way you hoped it would.