analemma

   The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henri Rousseau

thank you
that was very honorable
the way you held me
mercifully 
in your infinite arms of 
immaculate plasma 
yes. i was in need
i had danced with a bleak song
curled up in his lap
-the crater of a darkside moon
inhaled his pipe
-a rare child’s final farewell
and now
i am spun gold
i am the brightest flash 
of the upper limb
i am the moment of discovery and 
this sun
is a whirling dervish 
© 2014-Rene
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