still.

there is beauty, still
we will recognize a pattern
misplaced and returning, always

we create primary structures
from echoes at dusk
the clink of his fork on a plate
a glass held up to lamplight
or touching her thighs

we will collide
bending, and we will descend
waking again in the morning
mimicking and
cursing the dawn


© 4.5.2013 heather brager