In the April of Covid 19
Day 14
“Time and places grip her breast bone, she is breaking with seasons and clouds”Dylan Thomas
Invisible
I am invisible. A strange pause. A flint
before the strike. I am a fragment of ether
sensual, formed as woman, flesh-flaunt
of binary star nipples, nova, matter other
than thighs and belly, white as milky way.
I am a life held in suspension. A part missing
from your sense of whole. I am the why
of your sleepless night, the message
you seek to decipher in the half-faced moon
at your window. I am hidden. Always here.
Your skin thirsts for my stroke, throat moans,
hands grope in darkness for light of my hair.
Skylover Wordlist: Strike (Stroke)
Play It Again Toads: Invisible
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