~obscurity

just beyond summer is
soundless
like old love and lightning

how many months to remember?
how many whispers?
warm pinks and spread wings

the way she bends the sun’s distance
between a tender curl
of leaf-sprout
and a brief flowering

his touch, as quiet as nightfall

soft ground on the cusp
of evening
an indecent, unblanketing wind

the dimming ache

her hips
belonging to the shape
of moonlight

lah  7.7.15

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