Breath Clasped

If I could kiss every strand
of your starless-night hair,
and every lock and curl that
exists upon your perfect frame

I would find my breath clasped
between the rhythms your heart beats,
exchanged of air in waters from the
sacred lakes and fires of your soul –

And as I cross the settled rivers of your
soil, across the endless acreage of our life’s
land, you become my journey to a discovery:
that the rules of breathing captivate my

soul on the coastal sands of your gaze,
the portered bronze and marbled phrases
of your eyes in colors I cannot explain
seized in the twilight of a night’s single star

 

©K. James Ribble

 

Writing Prompt: the rules of breathing

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