THAT JUNE IN PARIS DAHLIAS WERE LARGE AS DINNER PLATES

Poetry by Lyn Lifshin ♣ Art by Barry Mack

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“Red World” by Barry Mack

 

I walked from a dream of

longing, always for some

one ghostly, untouchable.

I walked thru the roses

like some woman driving

in the dark, from the

prairie, dazed by wind

strong enough to tilt trees.

The musky amber and

umber, stained glass and

jewels. The cool baths,

a massage. I could have

been, half felt I was the

Lady with the Unicorn,

delicate and pale,

pulling him in with the

sense of taste, hearing,

sight, smell and touch.

A Mon Seul Desir, my

one desire, that jeweled

box, one, someone,

said, would change April,

and then I left like a

ghost, like dust

in the morning light

 

 

 

 

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