BAROQUIAL

settling frond
the time
wound like
wind

I remember
the rust
and harsh
salted meals
I tasted the
cold on frozen
mornings
a lament
remembered
in springs
sunny dispositions
and transitions
latitudes of
extent
and extremes

like a letter in my
pocket
your love
was forgotten
the touches
upon the hip
and shoulder
now remembered
like a Berg shoved
aside in the steamy
wake of voyage

Not Now
not ever
but Then

the tranquil magic
I recall
in the lost trip
of the Now

so U were real
as I
and as fragrant
as the dusk
between us
the vaulted
haunted
hostilities
calmned
that we fed
and knew
so well

...