A poem about the space
       that we create
in our lives
       distances and proximities
boundaries we set
       permissions we grant or deny
allowing someone into our lives
       or keeping them at arm’s distance

inner and outer space
       the preservation of territories
of the heart and mind
       as much as bodily

a bed of roses with thorns
       beneath the blooms
but nothing ventured –
       traceries and markings
the vertical soul
       tattooed with experience
what came with her kiss
       what necessary words
and how did they live
       and how did they die ?

The oblique blue sky sustained
       between the branches
of oak and elder
       and at night in the blackness
a crown of constellations
       a whisper of winds
shuffles the leaves
       I remember her breath
brushing against my cheek
       I remember how we put
time to the sword
       and how her garden grew

John Lyons