Senses

Finding you is being
freed of dangerous debate 

calamitous uncertainty
dissolves in face of such
a trenchant substance and
solidity; you’re real and occupy
unchallenged space

my feet would wander needlessly
on paths to nowhere lost in
pasts forgot, beset by ghosts
whose form resembles trysts
with bold mirage-like artifice
begot in manic dreams
and endless emptiness 

ethereal disturbances still
claim a place but yet the rapture
of your scent persists in kisses
placed where senses don’t
resist voluptuary – the solid
hint is saving grace you
sagely promise me
© 1 July 2010, I. D. Carswell