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Barefoot Abandon

       To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the
       greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
                       —FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCA


Last night we were free     the moon     you     me.
Our lips of spiced cinnabar burned through the dark
and in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea.

You     an azurite combustion     me     the Rose of Tralee.
We swam clear coastal waters with a great white shark.
Last night we were free     the moon     you     me.

An offshore breeze seduced us so innocently.
We shed shift and shirt and ran to the seamark
in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea

and rose so breathless I would not foresee
so fickle a kiss. Why leave me in the dark?
Last night we were free     the moon     you     me

for my heart and love were eternal you see.
You singed my lips     burned your watermark
when in barefoot abandon we dove into the sea.

You haunt my dreams with wild anxiety
I yearn for the years I lost you     my Irish anarch.
Last night we were free     the moon     you     me.
Barefoot     abandoned     I dove into the sea.


Mona T. Lydon-Rochelle

The Southern Review

Autumn 2016


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