Poetry
Opacarophile
For those who love sunsets as much as I do
Why do we cast eyes upward towards the burning sky?
Is it to gaze upon tangled clouds making love in the corner,
whispering knot holes to the wind,
and watching the sun unwrap poetry
golden crimson upon wildflowers
and rambunctious waves of ocean?
I love the sunset
that time of daylight
when the sun’s shift is almost over.
I love the sunset
and its burst of colors
like ribbons in the sky.
I met him one evening before the twilight
of an almost abandoned hilltop cafe,
deserted due to epic, pandemic proportions,
just as the sun hovered and bowed,
him well-read and narcissistic,
introverted and intimate
with both Hemingway and Bukowski,
and greyish shades of poetry.
He a pirate with a lust for syntax,
me a dreamer, in search of sunsets,
over-caffeinated star gazers both,
Until we choked on words
that set the sun
on fire
and stumbled from the heart.
© Connie Song 2022. All Rights Reserved.
