We devour old times –
two clouded,
broken-eyed,
cat and dog –
fishing sacred out of
vast champagne night.
I may linger,
eat air,
an ocean –
that delicious thing –
fool to heal
this moist open throb
& it must work.
(My Friday muse is online magnetic poetry.)
I love this! I can hardly imagine it coming from magnetic poetry, but truly lovely!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Debra!
LikeLike
The proof is in the taste.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol! Thanks.
LikeLike
Amazing anti👌
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks
LikeLiked by 1 person
A beautiful stew.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You are welcome.
LikeLike