The Ways We Love

tilt your morrow to mine

fill me with the marrow

of the sublime

as i pitch and pine

for the pungent line

in the bluegray ridges

of your eyes


white oak smoked

and soaked with your hunger

for my burgundy brine

fermented in the artifact

of gravitational rhyme


for life is not a battle

but the art of the straddle

as you step me out of time

the elation

of inner transmutation

for which you forever are

the whole and precious part


© M.G. Iannucci 2019

Art: Ephemeral by Pat Erickson

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