perhaps I was bewitched by the North Star

or by a ballad as dateless as my blood

geography of feelings populates unwanted interludes

my eyes, the nests of dewy grass and leaves

emerald eyelashes flaunt

black taffeta chirps between my fingers like piano keys

inside my soul your kisses soar

soft lilac tones like prayers of the youngest nun

perhaps because I read your poetry last night

and cut my soul between a stanza and a strife

perhaps a child played with a kite

a kingdom for a sup

maybe it was the wind

that woke me up

                                           ~ Gabriela M

                                          ~United States