"To Her" - Conner McKinnon

I sometimes attempt escape,
These days, in the rasp
Of autumn winds unraveling in my head
Like old, neglected violins;
In my grief, I can travel between worlds.
As with rain cupped in the dying hands
Of leaves, the sunset alchemically coalesces into rose-gold
Champagne in the pools of my eyes
Like stories told in stained glass
Of fallen angels longing
In darkness for everlasting light—that which
Simultaneously torments and exalts.
Beyond some abstract ideal, or some outrageously-proportioned
Fertility symbol, you are as tangible as I
Passing with me beneath the boughs of trees,
Your breath, the susurrations of the leaves
As something inside you speaks to something within me
In a language that exfoliates, from Winter, perennial Spring.
Your unrecognized presence recalls light that flickers
In darkness while the darkness does not comprehend it,
And yet, in the liminal space between night and
Daybreak the long grass clings to your thighs as
You dance, blanketing the ground beneath your feet
With its glistening hair while the dew that
Collects on its strands hardens
Into stars that confess that you go on and on,
Enthroned amid a sea of fire and glass.

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