You, Everywhere by Bronmin Shumway
Walking the stone beach at dawn I see a small cliff and make out, between the coalescing and yanking waves, your face in the rock. Love watches from a lighthouse, and blinks. And again, in the Czech bakery’s pastry case among the sweet breads, a loose cherry on the parchment is your mouth. Love rots in me like a tooth, I have known such sweetness. Over the hill, the old house sits and it is you on the swing, holding your guitar like a child, singing to it like a child. It is only morning, and already you are everywhere. Apologies and credit extended to Bronmin Shumway, whose poem 'The Dress', page 28, Issue 25, was miscredited. ~ The Gold Dust Team.
Photograph: Eleanor L. Bennett
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