a grand design

I kissed you, and you dared to cross the line
I drew in a virtual sand with a metaphorical toe, the wine
irrelevant to my passion, for I am sober on all things
but the drunken stagger in my walk when I hear you talk
and think of your voice in my ear, last night, saying words
that would spur me to your greater delight in the night
that will always be locked away as a time and place
we would not, could not face were we as cautious as we thought.
For I have peeled away the last onion layer of armour
against the ardour I would pour out on and in you
like dreams of the damned and a transubstantiation
where I am unmade and my flesh is yours and yours is mine
and all the things we said are truer than the veils
we have to wear for the rest of our lives, denying
the one moment that proved there was a grand design.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.