greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
—FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA
Last night we were free the moon you me.
Our lips of spiced cinnabar burned through the dark
and in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea.
You an azurite combustion me the Rose of Tralee.
We swam clear coastal waters with a great white shark.
Last night we were free the moon you me.
An offshore breeze seduced us so innocently.
We shed shift and shirt and ran to the seamark
in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea
and rose so breathless I would not foresee
so fickle a kiss. Why leave me in the dark?
Last night we were free the moon you me
for my heart and love were eternal you see.
You singed my lips burned your watermark
when in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea.
You haunt my dreams with wild anxiety
I yearn for the years I lost you my Irish anarch.
Last night we were free the moon you me.
Barefoot abandoned I dove into the sea.
MONA T. LYDON-ROCHELLE
The Southern Review
Autumn 2016
Autumn 2016
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