Another, possibly more accessible, poem in the Poem-a-Day April. Today’s prompt: distance.
Miles to Babylon
What distance lay between her hand and mine
Was not the two-foot cushion of the couch
With popcorn bowl, two books by R.L. Stine,
And somewhat lessened by my artful slouch,
But rather, what our sideways eyes implied:
While AV wires misled our gigglish peers
I might as well have cradled her and cried
As with her kitten tongue she lapped my tears.
In future years, by technicality
My lips have mashed against another’s lips;
At what had seemed an awful Mystery,
Now Isis stands unveiled about the hips;
But astronomical and epochal
The distance in this bed we used to share
Compared to when our friends asked us what shall
We watch, and we both jinxed we didn’t care.