Monday, September 10, 2012


photo: ralph murre

by Bruce Taylor

Trembling in sympathy
unstroked by the bow
not the string played but
the string next to it

not music but what
in music makes us
wish we were dancing

in the present arms
of not forgotten lovers
whose sweep and purl
as midnight disappears

whose glide like that
lightly out of control
breathlessly unaware of
ability and will

whose reach of flesh
under fabric whose wanton
body of a beautiful youth
ever eager in our arms.

~ first appeared in The Wisconsin Academy Review