persephone | sonnet eighteen posted by imani , Thursday, February 18, 2010 at 8:59 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

scarred to breathe the air from your lips
my soul fumbles and collides with your
sacred inertia, drawn to the invisible scent
of your light where wild flowers bloom as the night

urges me to dream, clasping the sinful, soft
gaze you bear, gravity dripping, seeping, aching
with the speed of a thousand imaginary fires,
the density of us eludes me, caught in the

bosom of clashing waves unrelenting and listless,
drowning in the impatient clouds remembering
persephone’s desire to make the amaranths

come to life…seeking to get lost in the maze
of your touch, descending, hastening, battling
with the incessant gloom of midnight.