Tryst Poetry by John Eivaz

Sanctuary

what a title
why not something
about the dance
of grey birds
the way they fly
away together
when disturbed
by circumstance
around them?
why not describe
work you can
be lost in
to hide loss?

dance will end
so too work
doors must
remain open

yet your breath
first palatable
imagined relished
blankets my neck
a fog lips create
wisp by wisp
wanders within
apart from my fingers
sure upon skin
joining in
hips' dancing
hot creations

too slight
for a poem's
ho-hum holy
misdirection

just right for us
breath and body
hide all else
sky empties
efforts hollow
in a dawn's niche
harbor music
amplifies
this safe untitling
of our lives

2002 John Eivaz


More Poetry
Bushala
all i want

Back to Contents