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

44 thoughts on “The Ways We Love

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