Credulous Constellations. To My Accidental Summery Lover Poem by Anna Polibina-Polansky

I watch the naivity of the sky well ajar. I am indulged to these occurrances beneath. I get enrooted into new habits. The tide of intricate shells and conches is equalized to wonders. The sea trades further abysses of the soul. That humid and salty realm of the indifferent sky tunes into unsystematic, accidental sensations. I shoot you in my Southern films, I keep you convicted to the screen if the plot comes to be sheerly ours. These things can't be that easily helped. I kept you at a distance, and you approached my looks. Don't utter it was pre-determined. The darkness of my skin correlates with ny porcelain skin. Not everything is at surface. Delving into thoughts arrests our further view, but in vain. The sand of the shore is splendid and flawless. The dawn gets awakened, interlaced, embraced, knotted up, interlinked by an invisible thread. We encounter each other in flesh, invincibly, of no aid. Unseen events are memorable and bright. The quibble of being wedded grasps us into its stirring cobweb; the tide is everywhere about. The sandy shore gets us irrevocably married, and up crowns our panorama of instants. You are choosey, fastidious, capricious at your settled, established choice. I beling to you at a nook of this tropic night. The troops of constellations keeps the mortgage of our reveries. Chilly shadows wraps us at this lingering music. Your close regard is unavoidable and piercing and prolongated. Get indulged to the hugs if my viewing. The fondled edge of my skin, lovely in texture as marblish pebbles, is doomed to the soothening liberty of movements. Healing are the boundaries of the next skin, genuinely yours. Our sensations are simultaneous, common, symmetrical. Blood and sang of the twilight greet our prancing shades. I am acutely craved by you, my intrusive full moon. Ceaseless fondling is chief and core; it involves our inner attention. We sound undividable for ourselves; tender and stirring is the velvet tropical midnight, between mousson showers and dry heat. The stars signify only the moon's convicted sneer. Physical nature commits its minor, mere, meek defeats, and wonders take us aback, gripping all thinkable irresistible tropheys. It is a conception of how a glance can be casted across mutual bottomless affection. Sensations are reciprocal, even and equal, at the peak of the plentiful moon.2022