In medias res

Where is the midpoint of a segment
Whose length is the darkest mystery?
In the purgatory of my life I am
God’s petite mort
My body burrows into the comfort of doubt
Kissing the autumn’s painted mouth
Suspended between vapor and ice
I tug at the covers of my dreams
Unsure whether to kick them off
And dissolve into this plasma that
Is your presence

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “In medias res”

      1. You deserve the kisses, like a G.I. liberating Paris–men, women, children shgould mob you just to touch the helmut that keeps you safe from the incidents of war that life is for poets who feel the air is more than atmosphere.>KB

  1. I read this six times. It resonates for me personally as a mid-life poem, since I’m starting anew and don’t know where I am on this journey. It resonates doubly as I just read about someone who died in her sleep at 39 of a blood clot; this and other things, happen. Indeed, we are partway through something, but what are our coordinates? Perhaps this wasn’t the work’s intent, but it’s what I felt, deeply.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s