She wears one mask,
and beneath blue sky’s face, hers
is more calm, a pacific tide dressing
waves that siphon sand from under
my feet.
She wears one mask,
contours her face embosses in the air,
with veiled smile, easy affection, like
some curtain drawn in warm embrace.
Eyes that linger do arrive.
She wears one mask,
and in the twinkle of her eye,
my gaze given way, she lets go
the chrysalis gauze, desire thus
draped, now undone silk by
silken breath.
She wears one mask,
lips like leaves she stirs the wind,
tucks me within hushed embrace,
till begins this apple bloomed,
Am I leaf or wind?
And behind each mask unmade,
the one who wears us both,
radiant.
2022.11.02
wordswerepoemsfirst.com 
I love your use of repetition here, and this standout line:
“Am I leaf or wind?”
Wonderful.
LikeLike
Thank you much. An old favorite of mine, here reworked some, but not too much. And yes, that line expresses for me when two poles can no longer see the difference between themselves. Each becomes the other. Becomes relationship itself. Thanks.
Two months out of twelve – oh my. Of last few months I’ve been writing a lot, but an apple a day – still oh my. I do like what you’ve been doing, shorter, sweeter, it seems to me. Me work to learn that too.
LikeLike