| A Textural Winter |
Soft, you are
in your velvet sense of
"I have been."
Pure and unaltered
in the rhetorical essence
of soft winds and scurrying leaves.
I stand in shadow
alongside the brilliance
of your meandering white.
Falling softly, the core of you
onto the climatic scene
I call my life.
My small glimpse of oblivion
in the harrowing whirlwind
of serene white,
you wash away the world
from my crying eyes.
I awaken to a resonating light,
your cold compress of wintering.
Original Appearance in The Dande Review Winter 2007, Copyright © of Stacy Lynn Mar 2007
in your velvet sense of
"I have been."
Pure and unaltered
in the rhetorical essence
of soft winds and scurrying leaves.
I stand in shadow
alongside the brilliance
of your meandering white.
Falling softly, the core of you
onto the climatic scene
I call my life.
My small glimpse of oblivion
in the harrowing whirlwind
of serene white,
you wash away the world
from my crying eyes.
I awaken to a resonating light,
your cold compress of wintering.
Original Appearance in The Dande Review Winter 2007, Copyright © of Stacy Lynn Mar 2007
| ~A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough. She thinks she can warn the stars. A writer is essentially a spy. Dear love, I am that girl.~ Anne Sexton |
| Stacy Lynn Mar |