Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Of Swans And Seraphim Comments
Rating: ★5.0
how like pollen were the hands of that beautiful Hunter.
her mouth matrilineal of midsummer,
she took foal through the spine and ate messily that ambrosia.
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COMMENTS
Roseann Shawiak
08 September 2015
Very soft, tender and delicate poem, somewhat mystical in nature. Rhythm and rhyme are sublime. Great poem, thank you for sharing it. RoseAnn
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4/3/2026 7:19:12 AM # 1.0.0
translating your 'finale' into Italian.. ... so when I awoke next, I was haunted with the memory of her breath there. ... e quando fui sveglia, mi ossessionò il ricordo del suo respiro sulla mia pelle.