Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Pope Marcellinus

I think my love for you began

when all our books were destroyed.

The words were gone, so I read

your face instead. I asked you to tell me

about the ocean. Your eyes whispered

of kelp that dances in the deep.

Your brow of the ship that always seems

to lie beneath. Your nose spoke of fins

that brush your thighs so lightly, while

your mouth was a reef in and of itself.

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