In the Wake by Maria Fokas Your hand was not mine to hold, nor my lips, yours to kiss – But in that world, I held your hand, and you kissed my lips. Through a dark current; you drew in a path; An epiphany soared within a gush of promises. And before me, a wraithlike image distracts my wake. Unbidden streams of clauses – lacing bare-scented gestures. I render the smile in your eyes, the accent in your voice, And everything you claimed that was mine. That path; deep-seated, between the distance of land and sea; How unfortunate that temporal … Continue reading In The Wake