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Jessy Murphy

Behind the River

Rising from fawn colored carpet to lean in the threshold of my house,
his form created a second arch in the space where my door used to be.
A salaciously balmy breeze sweeps through my room; the scent of wood-fire
and roasting meat fills my senses, the fire is fed with branches of hickory.
I watch the green mountains and feel wild and passionate as the mountains
are as they make love to the sky, blanketing them is spilled mist from the sea.
At dinner, my mind imitates my heart with thoughts of you; I debate
politely but each drop of melted candle distracts as I sip Chablis.
Your hand on mine, I dream of often; with longing breath I write my love notes
on the mist and send them floating back to you, my secret Love on the Yangtze.
Today I dug in the earth, scraping my shovel on rocks searching for worms
to fish with; I am the trembling creature caught on your hook, this is me.

About Jessy Murphy


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