by Elliott Bell
Soft slipping soles embrace,
Pink and curling,the rained-on rug.
I breathe deep the hinted scent,
The trace of lemons on dripping locks.
Fingers cling to the nape of my neck,
Weeping exploratory rivulets.
A careful step past the mirror and its eye
I sink into clean sheets with a sigh –
I reign supreme in this palace of mist
For as long as it lingers.