Aeneas (sailing)

you like a fly glide

across the still lake

away from..


my shoes

on the sand, arms

flat, dead



& you

indolent, leant

on the side, so


cool, inside

on fire,


say nothing;

& I,

too dead

to part my lips,


to say

your name,



the lines the water makes

when you go.

2 Responsesso far.

  1. john keast john keast says:

    Delicate and a poem to read and re-read

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