Last Minute Heaven
To touch space
and shiver against
those fabric-brushed
black fields of
dismembered poppies.
To see eyes sparkle
an epitaph of love,
in shallow-paddled
darkness,
hoping serenity
stays afloat,
just one
more
minute.
Breathless
they touch…
barely,
intensity
blowing sense
into void,
as ends one
minute’s calling`
and poppies run
black inked petals
to a brooding,silent heaven.
~~~
3rd in Barbara Gorelick's contest "Heaven's Sake"
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