
(who)
Is poem
(blooms)
Us awake
(as)
The creamy
Blue rain
Of sight
And sword
(dissolves)
Into the doors
Of adjacent realities

(each)
Of these lines
(tastes)
The holy
Blue streak
Of vision
(tasting)
Everything a poem was
(under)
The shape
Of her skin
Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.