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Soap Box Poets

The Abyssian Summer of 1936
© by Michael Di Tore

Now I lay you down and love you;
The battle over, yellow flowers kindled by the wind. Geese
In sway-winged rhythm trace the sky. The blood
On my chest, I recall the fountain of Linderhof castle.
The best of my moments come filled with wine but the real
Morning light is clear and gray and death's
A strange thing waiting in 8000 foot hills.
Now I lay down my hands and watch the clouds play.

The fight always goes on, draws my life away,
Drop by drop, and all I can do is shake my head.
I remember the hair about your ears, every angle of your bones,
Each night that got as good as anything.
I want to intersect this moment with some device,
A Florentine moon sealed in a painter's landscape,
A touch from you, some breath, some laughter.
I want to talk to someone.

This dumb day has possibilities, the great
Clouds build higher and thunder,
I imagine stories I could bring back, or you
With a drink in hand, in complete control,
In a white café, actually thinking I'm a hero.

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