September Kiss Poem by Charlotte Ballard

I have a memory of a Time
Before I was born
Drawn in by tide or moon
Or something rawer, deeper
Than space between the here
And then and maybe then as
Well. A purer place -
My hands want to say.
A place where I remember being
Loved even before I could
Sing or dance the harpsichord
Devine. Devil in the details,
Lover in my spine,
Harsh the wine comes down.
My hands melt into the
Keyboard as I remember a
September kiss.