Loving (a poem)
This is a small poem I once wrote during an infatuation. When I rediscovered it some months later, I thought it not that bad. I therefore decided to be courageous and open it up to public scrutiny.
It is a prose poem, focused predominantly on the imagery of traditional ritual, among which marriage, but also pagan sacrifice and exorcism, of which it uses and subverts some connotational phrases. Furthermore, it makes use of alliteration and enjambment to draw focus and to make the rhythm more pleasant.
Your testing fingertips, my treasure,
and your soft, wondering eyes,
wandering curiously on the aisle to my heart,
how can they not compel me?
In the name of my blood, I find
these petals of you
incensing my mortality
and laying it at your altar.
© 2018 Douglas Redant