First Tryst*

 

Like sunlit finch-wing spray

soft silk swept her lips,     

            lashes danced violins

inside smiles that measured

our first conversation.

 

For one moment

heat from her cheeks

made my hopes sail

like a sloop that shivers

when the trades that

brought Columbus surge.

 

Instantly her pulses

rhymed the his I grew in

like the quiet feel of a zephyr

rolling ground beneath

my chin splitting open

even temples of my ken.

 

The encore eons later

slumbers underneath

but still stirs easily

if those nimble wings

gash my eyes awake again.

 

Jerome L. McElroy

 

 

            *Accepted in The Poet’s Pen (March 1, 2012).