Fascination Number Eleven Poem by Shelby Barker

Fascination Number Eleven



The curvature of your lips, like those
of the spine with electric touches,
Confidence, released woes,
Gives in radiation as much as
It receives in initiation.
The slip of a genuine joy is a littoral
Boundary between your inner and outer
Hearts, macaronic in its exclamations,
an alembic to my sham cordate organ:
It is as much mine.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
My best friend in the whole wide world, my boyfriend, brought feeling to this otherwise empty poem as he does most of them. Trying to get into this project again.
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