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Mouthless shadow;
a mirror’s
backward clutch.

Winter bulbs forced
from summer’s
pocketed stones

as narcissus skin
glows like velvet;

             the beauty of soft paper.

Nectar collected
in a hollowed palm;
fragrance dripped in F-sharp

as hazy sunspots bounce
in a wood-paneled room
scratched into silver;

he drinks
from his fist

             essence pours on his tongue; volatile.

His palm tilts sideways
my petals fall in a silent crash
from his gaping mouth

in mercuric time
of a year passed;

             looping; shifted images and tempos.

Posted for dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #35 www.dversepoets.com

Pavane by Gabriel Fauré is a thread that has woven through my life. As a young flautist, I performed this piece several times with a youth philharmonic orchestra and many years later it’s come back to me and been inspiration for this poem.