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  • By John H. B. Martin


That was the Sistine Chapel, wedged between

our complex life and all that slept beneath

your kisses, and my curses, as we danced

love's simple dance beneath the midday moon.

Which might as well have been the midnight sun

the way you looked at me… (And I looked back!)

You could have walked along that look(to share

what dream?)as if it were a bridge across

some gentle streamor else lust's raging torrents.

I loved that look you gave me! It went such

a long way back it reached to where I stretched

my feet, almost, yet did not dare to fare

the way I stared at you, just then, upon

that Bridge of Sighs, close to the Source of Being.

Featured in forthcoming New Lyre Magazine

John H.B. Martin is a poet who lives in London, England. He is a graduate of London University and Australia National University and has been writing for many decades. He has written four novels and is working on a fifth. His magnum opus is a six-volume epic poem. Most of his work is yet to be published.

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