Day 11: National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo

Was it true, was it you,
in the blink of an eye
and the history of a man
out of time, a man not mine?
Was it true, was it you,
who settled sweetly onto sofa,
who slipped swiftly into suggestions
as we washed whispers with wine?
Was it true, was it you,
caressing and undressing the distance
that tickled from your red bricks (red lips)
into the tangles of my sheets fresh?
Was it true, was it you, was it me,
that northern man kissing
and climbing over southern son’s
heart he wore carved upon flesh?

Oui, you say, in my ear, still,
Oui, you said, from my bed

and then we laughed…

and somewhere
in the distance
a train pulled away.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly


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