Iambics
I am enticed by the iambics felt
in tides between my heart, your tongue;
I know dark orchids hem your stilted voice
and yet your kiss unfolds me lip by lip.
Each line you've breathed has been exhumed before
by a more faithful heartbeat than your own.
Am I in love with practiced whispers pulled
from mouths of dead romantics, rhythm cursed?
Copyright © Jean Marble | Year Posted 2009
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