© 2019 Orris Root

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But I Never Opened the Door

My dear, to commit my body
Into the stratosphere of
The phosphorescent being
of you, the clear and present
oxygen of the night air, its
Sky seen foggily through a
Telescope was the first sign
Of how things would be between
Us, the mighty light of the stars
In a canyon sky, seen briefly
Through a half-ajar dark doorway
With a foot wedged in the space
Between the wood and the frame
Of copper. My terry cloth robe,
tied at the waist, Loosely
so as to fall open, the density
of our elements, with different
boiling points, we draw together,
forming like crystals, in slick
glassy layers of touch, you
a free form atom, alit in a cloud
outside, your rapid eye movement
attractive as a group of fireflies
Me, safe in her spot on the ground
Floor level of an A frame,
looking up with a hand
over my eyes, as if protecting
myself from the bright sun of you.

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