22 | A Poem by Irina Moga
Where are you this morning?
I am still here, on the 43rd parallel North –
are you still close to a Jovian moon?
The fantom of your kiss on my lips
weighs in on the incipient gusts.
Where are you?
Your thoughts – parachutes
dispersed over the morning’s fault lines –
the unaccounted-for undertones from last night.
The dandelion genus that binds us inside the
aloofness of its pollen –
the male part of flowering.
Across the Earth’s 126th East-54th West meridian loop,
the frugal mirror of your eyes
as intangible as the sky above.
You step out into the evening light,
I sip my coffee –
a moment of distraction,
that sends us in a
yellow, light green and white,