A Lot of Glass

On the porch, where the air won’t move.
Wet, heavy, a thickness one must swim through.

I turned to you, slowly, so nearly dead, the water
the air
blurring you.

“Are you a barrelfish?”
Atmospheric perturbations x-raying the best of us.

No even an angelfish, possibly a flounder.
But lighting made it all majestic, and I made love to you, there on the porch.
Where the wind made waves of air.

Only regretting the weight of the eggs.

About Martin

I'm just... filling time.
This entry was posted in Delirium Haha, Poem, poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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