It’s how water bends light…how it breaks sticks
without breaking them…distorts his dipped arm
without pain…how the rippling light’s face flicks
and tricks his eye…prompts him to praise its charm
in whispers so soft it recalls making
love to her on that rumpled old futon…
all he could afford…bodies forsaking
pain and earth’s atmosphere…lifting beyond
each other with each other...all they could
afford…wisps of words bending heavy mist
of air enveloping them…caress of soul
on soul…rippling of lip on lip…each kiss
a distorted perfection breaking them…
healing them…like a dying angel’s hymn…
Roger Armbrust
July 21, 2020
