The Tender Weight of Her Sighs
by Michael R. Burch

The tender weight of her sighs
lies heavily upon my heart;
apart from her, full of doubt,
without her presence to revolve around,
found wanting direction or course,
cursed with the thought of her grief,
believing true love is a myth,
with hope as elusive as tears,
hers and mine, unable to lie,
I sigh ...

NOTE: This poem has an unusual rhyme scheme, with the last word of each line rhyming with the first word of the next line. The final line is a “closing couplet” in which both words rhyme with the last word of the preceding line. I believe I invented this ***** form and will dub it the "End-First Curtal Sonnet." Keywords/Tags: curtal, sonnet, *****, form, tender, weight, sighs, heart, doubt, presence, gravity, orbit

Once
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Once when her kisses were fire incarnate
and left in their imprint bright lipstick, and flame,
when her breath rose and fell over smoldering dunes,
leaving me listlessly sighing her name . . .

Once when her ******* were as pale, as beguiling,
as wan rivers of sand shedding heat like a mist,
when her words would at times softly, mildly rebuke me
all the while as her lips did more wildly insist . . .

Once when the thought of her echoed and whispered
through vast wastelands of need like a Bedouin chant,
I ached for the touch of her lips with such longing
that I vowed all my former vows to recant . . .

Once, only once, something bloomed, of a desiccate seed—
this implausible blossom her wild rains of kisses decreed.

Published by The Lyric, Writer’s Journal, Grassroots Poetry, Tucumcari Literary Journal, Unlikely Stories, Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: kisses, fire, incarnate, lipstick, dunes, *******, heat, lips, breath, sighs, passion, desire, lust, ***, bachelorhood, recanted

Corona
by Michael R. Burch

There was a moment
  without the sound of trumpets or a shining light,
    but with only silence and darkness and a cool mist
      felt more than seen.
      I was eighteen,
    my heart pounding wildly within me like a fist.
  Expectation hung like a cry in the night,
and your eyes shone like the corona of a comet.

There was an instant . . .
  without words, but with a deeper communion,
    as clothing first, then inhibitions fell;
      liquidly our lips met
      —feverish, wet—
    forgotten, the tales of heaven and hell,
  in the immediacy of our fumbling union . . .
when the rest of the world became distant.

Then the only light was the moon on the rise,
and the only sound, the communion of sighs.

With all the understandable gloom, doom and despair over the coronavirus, I was reminded of this early poem of mine that used the term "corona" in a much more positive light. I wrote this poem around age 18 and it has been published by Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Webring. Keywords/Tags: Corona, coronavirus, touch, union, communion, sighs, expectation, unity, trumpets, heart, pounding, ***, arousal, union, ecstasy, consummation, consecration, omen, comet, shooting star, talisman, moonrise, moon rising

Feeling empty inside
Silent raw hollow cries vibrate
Heavy a weight but wait as a
voice from within sighs
Uprising begins to follow on strong
Bones turn to dust
Metal will rust
What do you hold at the end
of your day
If only a name

He last called my name,
Then he could speak no more,
I have seen many deaths,
I knew he was going to die.
They hospitalised him,
To check what was wrong.
I sat by the bed praying,
He breathed fast,
In between long sighs,
His eyes were glassy,
I asked for forgiveness,
He moaned,
Nodded several times,
I began to cry,
He was with the angels,
Reliving his past.
It is coming to an end,
The beeps on the machine slow,
Tears fall from his left eye,
He gives a heavenly smile,
Looks at me lovingly,
Let go of my hand.
The machine beeps no more,
Gently I close his eyes and mouth,
Straighten his legs and hands,
He was gone peacefully.
A man of great patience and love,
He gave all and asked for nothing.

So what you gained a little weight
It won't make a difference to me when your legs are up in the air and I'm in between there
The more of you I get to touch
The better things are
Don't worry about being fat
Because you won't be
But thicker thighs
Save lives
With deeper sighs
Of pleasure
Don't worry about the measure
I'd still be enjoying what I see
Pure as the Seven Seas
You'll always be more gorgeous then me
Never forget that
I'll still want to get you finished on surface bumpy or flat
You can teach me yoga on your yoga mat
That's how I see that