Obsidian

          A background of stars 
          hair black as raven wings in the night 
          amber smoke from a lone candle
          drapes itself over your naked body
          like a veil cloaking your existence.

          Have I imagined you?
          Did I give you shape and truth?
          Did I will you into my life?

          You rise slowly, like a snake
          smooth, sensuous, uncoiling
          as your eyes caress me 
          from black, fathomless depths.
 
          Outside your window
          an owl hunts its prey 
          silently, lethally, efficiently.

from my poetry book  Imaginary Lovers  published last year




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Ursine Logic's Books and Art