By Madison
Date: 1 April 2001

Echo in the Atrium

                 Air, waiting
         to breathe him again.
        Quiet strums of touch
    my skin remembers, almost
    stretches to the kiss his
    stars collapse.  The hall,  
           last morning light
            filtering to lips.  
      The armless couch - his 
       hair, stone black onyx   
    against its pillows white. 
        Bathwater in the dark.  
            Endorphin bags of 
aphrodisia dripping, dripping. 
       Villagers of the night
  tossing, turning insomniacs
   of bone-idle air.  It nods
         like floating leaves.





M Madison
01 apr 01