Dwight Stevers: Poetry

	Poetry
	Dwight Stevers

Focal Point
- for Kim
Intricate purple shadows defined the curvature of your face. Cellophane serpent with silver aura, beckoning destiny making love with the past seducing the moment. The touch of your fingertips – static electricity, sparks. An occasional drop of sweat slides down your torso. Tributaries. Sacrificial fires burn at your altar. Another state of consciousness, a new frame of mind encloses the scene. We gaze back slowly through the lens to find the center of the sun.

Focal Point

- for Kim

Intricate purple shadows
defined the curvature of your face.
Cellophane serpent
with silver aura,
beckoning destiny
making love with the past
seducing the moment.
The touch of your fingertips –
static electricity,
sparks.
An occasional drop of sweat
slides down your torso.
Tributaries.
Sacrificial fires burn at your altar.
Another state of consciousness,
a new frame of mind
encloses the scene.
We gaze back slowly through the lens
to find the center of the sun.

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