poet Nicole M. Martin

Nicole M. Martin

La Bellisima (Most Beautiful)

You sigh in sleep
As the sheets rustle with the
Rise and fall of your breath.
I wish I could breathe that same breath,
Hide inside you,
Drink shadows from the
Pools of your closed eyes.

The curve of your arm is a poem,
Splayed across the satin with inarticulate grace.
I watch your languorous lips
Murmur psychobabble,
And think what Freudian postulates
Might be formed from breathy whispers
Gleaned in the light of dawn mist.

Lips that shaped me as if
I had not been before.
Fingers tracing the length of my spine,
Disassembling me as surely
As they shaped me of primordial seas.

And what a love is ours, as any other: an ocean.
Ruled by riptides and swells, all but

Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 18, 2009
Poem Edited: Thursday, October 22, 2009

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