by Jason Alan

you are the sunshine, a gentle caress
the petals of a lily, surging sweet life into its breast
as we undress

the moon that grips it, slips it
deftly, ever so softly toward the expanse of space
to kiss an ellipsis upon your face

the kind that sparks fire in the mind
of a distant other, the desire to find
fingers sliding up the skirt of a lover

you murder the melancholy, the folly
that resides inside the hearts of men
it starts again
with a whisper of your voice in the din

you are the mystical whisp, a kiss so visceral
dismissing the miserable
with a flick of the wrist,
both literal and physical