Pastiche
August 11 2025
by Mark Kikot
In sleep’s collage of dreams diaphanous
We stir like poppies in a summer’s breeze.
We stretch and rise, but do not wake. At ease,
We hear ourselves, our voices amourous,
Exchange a whispered need, made tremulous
By touch and tenderness; the purring tease
Of eyes and lips and fingertips that frees
The flesh to grasp, embrace the rapturous.
The form it takes is often ‘rich and strange’,
And celebrates a beauty bound by love
Emerging from a heart so dark and deep
The light it sheds, beyond the human range,
Appears angelic with the promise of
A blissful singing while the dreamers sleep.
December 15, 2020