eros at play

it’s sharp and clear

in front of me

when i woke into

a wintry morn’s light

snowflakes falling rapidly

saturated with moisture

not dancing down like

in days gone by

when life was easier

drunken by a dream about

a young Simchi – back then

mischi –

child-woman worming up

with her warm thighs onto

my sunburned thigh

clasping sacred embrace

to see about her tiny

bubbles on her forehead

her dr-hubby supposed to

open up and drain –

the touches of her thigh

chafing my own

felt deeply erotic –

so see what an e-mail may

cause such sweet a dream

with my aunt in a nun’s habit

sitting next to us

observing

and from then on

the poet will extend the play

of his intuition.

do we meet 2x in life?

eros at play.

zoltanzelan

zjg-poetry’21.

One thought on “eros at play

  1. when the poet dreams, he hardly notices as it’s subtle and continual
    but when a pic appears crystal-clear, he is shaken deeply, and his
    whole existence feels the tremor of soul and body.

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