A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
A Poetry Sporadical of Repeating Forms
It makes me giddy every time I see
You slip out of your garments to reveal
This blessedly familiar luxury,
This shrine at which I pray you’ll let me kneel.
The most accomplished thief could never steal
A treasure rich as your largesse to me.
So fair a vista, dare I think it’s real?
It makes me giddy every time I see
This Promised Land exceeding prophecy.
No starving beggar ever craved a meal
From which he hoped for half the ecstasy
You slip out of your garments to reveal;
No avid gambler wagers at the wheel,
No race car driver speeds through a Grand Prix
Envisioning a prize with more appeal—
This blessedly familiar luxury;
No oracle has framed an augury
That devotees embrace with keener zeal.
It snares my flesh and sets my spirit free,
This shrine at which I pray you’ll let me kneel.
The secret that you choose not to conceal
Is, every time, a fresh discovery.
The urgent measures that we waltz and reel
Deplete yet multiply my energy.
It makes me giddy.
Chris O’Carroll is a writer, an actor, and a frequent contributor to the Umbrella group of publications. He has also published poems in BigCityLit, Measure, and other print and online journals.