The Middle Line

i long for One without form

and press my palms

sans the touch of yours

for comfort born beyond time

in the breaching of the lines

as all i bear

you share

at the apex of our heart


maiden-mother mourned

with desire transformed

through a billion scattered mouths

i kiss and bind

and she spoke of a bridge

before she bloomed into light

breathing, “write, my daughter – write”


© M.G. Iannucci 2018

Art by Stanka Kordic

18 thoughts on “The Middle Line

  1. Ah, another gem in your collection of jewels. We long for the moment when our lights traverse this Earthy realm and enter into the next phase of spiritual growth. Love the imagery and your use of alliteration, too.

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