Theme Park at its Darkest

Your stride faltered in hesitation as
The young man held the door to let you pass
His face eclipsed by yours – a brief reflection
His eyes stalled by yours within the glass

I’d hoped to catch this moment in the mirror
Rising from the lines upon my face
But read the time less from standing figures
Than from the way you spanned the empty space

This morning’s spectre of your fragrant heat
Attendant to your body’s pooling shadow
Trickles through the reef of cotton sheet as
A frigid breeze rattles the open window

I kiss your neck, then disappear from sight
You turn to face the weeping winter light

This entry was posted on August 30, 2020 at 7:26 am and is filed under poetry, sonnet with tags clock face, poetry, sonnet. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.