Poetry by Lola Gentry-Dey. All rights reserved.
It was here one night
among white blossoms and junipers
that we lay touching
while the rest of the world
snored in their small beds.
We breathed frost words to breezes on branches
breathing deeply in the deep woods
with no earthly destination
hidden behind the pulse of dawn
throbbing on a trigger’s touch.
You were delicate incense I lit alone.
my fingers found the sweep of stars on bare skin—
a house-warmth murmur of Christmas gold when you breathed.
You were a bird
whose only cry came in color in the company of starlight
whistling up the violets
in a garden wilderness of dawn’s yellow daylight
flowering into streaming pinks
and fleshed with rose petals when I came with you.