there are other women
out there i could love
but will never
meet in the places
where i’m going
where i’ve been
has led me to you
just as certain words
remain unread, so
do i remain lost
in your throat
my fingers reading
your open spine
you touching the dark
places between my stars
*****
Dreaming of Emily Dickinson
i sometimes dream
about Emily Dickinson,
her seemingly stoic allegories
speaking of lost love
flies buzzing, yellow halos,
unblossomed thighs,
apple orchards,
new shoes in Eden
she was a woman
i loved even though
she didn’t know,
wouldn’t acknowledge,
wouldn’t have known what
to do even if she had known
she was my home town,
all my favorite streets,
elm lined lovers’ lanes
i would have died
for her Beauty,
instead i died
for her Truth
today i saw a woman
who reminded me of her
i wanted to tell her it was
she who once touched
my face and found me there
~ Tim J Brennan hails from southeastern Minnesota. His poetry continues to be a work in progress.
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