Reflection
The passion of a lover’s embrace,
brush of lips,
tingling skin.
The flash of light after a punch
in the nose,
iron in the throat.
A coat draped over shoulders
on a cold day,
a burst of warmth.
The quenched sigh after a thirsty glass
of water,
a moment of peace.
The scald sending a wet line down the cheek,
salt in the mouth,
the ear drum torn at the sound of despair.
The body’s slow receding to room temperature.
“There’s a warm spot here Stacey!”
the “goodbye” until the dead rise again.
E.G. Frank