The stone archway floods with old sun.
Beyond, the path crumbles to the vanishing point
interrupted by a fountain, beyond which, river.
Anything, through archways, makes oneís lust run
like the last gold: pathways withheld, a joint
refusal and promise. Everythingís arched, now
including me: gardens, punts gliding, slivers
of lost sunlight we feel, and disavow.
Thanks to The Writers' Greenhouse for the prompt to write ekphrasis about Simon M Gannon's photograph and to Simon M Gannon for making his work available.
See the new NaPoWriMo poems as they pop up, complete with pics of the handwritten drafts, and suggest titles for them, via whatever social media you call home:
All my poems on this site are now #FreeForPoets to play with, to write hybrid forms such as glosas, coupling poems, golden shovels, acrostics, centos, and erasures. Full permissions here: #FreeForPoets.