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 stream—or 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.