If love was just a wish away
and every dream came true
I'd pull the stars down from the sky
and give them all to you

For all the words I write are yours
I bleed for you alone
If I could hold your pretty stare
it's there I'd  find my home

But I am just a lonely scribe
of whom you're unaware
if I was graced with just one smile
my parchment heart would tear.

So I will wish upon the moon
and beg upon her grace
that I will love forevermore
her light upon your face.

My cell is a remote,
and we are older than Latin.
In dreams, the brown shirts
press their kisses hard
against your absence.
Vaguely, I remember
what the crotch wants.

There are spans as ****
and clean as housekeeping.
This room reminds me
of tree carvings.
I'm an inch away from
when I might poke brave.

I'd like to take red-light
risks while turning down
the thermostat to freezing.
A wrinkled artist with a
thumb on words.
My hair is shattered without
your fingers to connect.

In a look the hood
comes off greasy
smiles and all. I remember
being a condemned vehicle
living vagrant by a thick
university of corpses.
Unsolved, at the foot
of a stairwell.

Sara Fielder © June 2018

A dragonfly reclines
on mercenary shrub bush,
flare of sunlight hitting
aquamarine wings.
The lake is a
sliver of serpentine,
as healthy as the Aegean.
For the moment we
are no longer miniscule.
We investigate a handful
of marvelous.
Thread of birdsong
unite us in question.
A rooster-tail of hope
sprays drizzle
on my keen heart.

Sara Fielder © July 2018

A cluster of clothes clamped to my skin
Shreds of country flags floating in the wind
Harrowed by the heavy hollow heresy
Of humanity, scattered bribes of poesy.

But when you speak, my secluded soul
Sees the watercolor rainbow formed by four nations
Euskal Herria, France, Spain and America
You hold in your accents my tenderest childhood.

And when poets ink their nationalities
Through the diaphanous paper, light
With the burdening joy of their fatalities
I follow the trail of their voyage burning bright

Where you barred it all on the page
Shadows of lashes on your literary back
Raw and pure, rare and *****
The essences of you, self-permeating.

Aurora, your rose-kissed fingers
Skimmed your book, the imprint lingers
Surrounded by your poignant power
My quill joins your flow, serene seer.

Inspired by Aurora Vélez García
Lyon, July 5, 2018
Appoline Romanens