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May 2019
I.
Beckoned by the lopsided geometry of a half-empty bed
the vine-entangled walls of my imagination crumble like leaves
into the concrete waters of the present.

As awareness detonates
a rioting hailstorm of consciousness
hammers heart-echoes in rapidly diminishing waves
against the concave shores of my charred psyche.

Dawn's crisp light crawls
over the roundness of my lips,
melting moonlit memories
into teardrops that fall like icicles
from the ovals in my face.

Dipping her toes
into my fragile lake of thought,
she created a plaster cast
of the footsteps of time.

II.
Though the rigid tremors of Now
threaten to crumble the wobbling edifice of our past,
still we float together on this nostalgic life raft,
sharing air and space and memory.

Even as regret seeps
like a psychedelic river of graffiti
from our time-weary heartbeats:
still nothing is destroyed.

This solitary mountain trail
winds into the eastern sun,
yet as my sprinting feet strike the Earth
I cannot escape the panoramic view
of the towering marble columns we erected
while drunk on love's astonishing elixir.

Cocooned inside the irrepressible buoyancy
of a raging bonfire our hearts leapt skyward:
there she dipped her fingertips into the drifting clouds,
massaging a miniature portrait of the sky
onto the subtle canvas of my eyes.
Thomas Goss
Written by
Thomas Goss  WA
(WA)   
186
   Bogdan Dragos
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