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A Lovers Tryst

Don’t hold me to blame.
The road was never straight
nor the wind mild of frame

Your bedside monitor screeches 
one incessant, contrary acoustic.
Giving notice to all abroad that
time has moved on elsewhere 

Let me raise you up and brush 
away the marks that play a 
cracked tune on your broken 
parts, like a drummer breaking sticks

The glass of your eye
holds the drink of my heart,
where champagne bubbles try
to revive an empty space no 
longer receiving its rhythmic pulse

The mood of your limbs ,
restrained by dysfunctional form
and snared by aseptic plastic, 
bring a darkness to this room. 

And, like  American Indians
encircling a wagon train, 
Dante's allegorical limbo 
encircles your bed, pining 
for your life renunciated husk

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

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Date: 12/19/2015 4:01:00 PM
A true love poem told by one who has no other alternative but to hold his loved one's hand and pray... pray for life, such as as it is, or death which is probably preferable. So sad... God bless, Keith
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