dawn does not start the day

Bridge over the Miljacka — Julian Nitzsche (j.budissin) CC BY-SA 3.0

Dawn does not start the day, so fresh its skin
Unwashed of night like milk in coffee blooms,
Bread dipped in honey suns slumbering rooms,
Rays glisten amber on cheeks, lips and chin.
Awed we drink gulping noon’s fertile frank grin
Viewed tear eyed immersed in quenching perfumes.
Kissing day’s shroud, nightfall blindly exhumes
Animal rumbling grunt shoving within.

Bathed in sea salt full we licked savored lips
Unsunned untongued unsweet untold until
Lock-legged tied-tongued bent-held bound-souled joined-hips 
Earth squeezed stone sweat shone beaded, bright and still.

Again I walk stone modest river bridges
Now twenty and more winters have fed its springs.
I cast my eyes on rippling stream ridges
Chasing rose gold sun flecks evening’s echo brings.


An acrostic

For background on the poems I’ve published on Medium see “about these poems”.


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