That First Light

offering 3

By JL Martindale

Harsh, white, florescent
washing color from our faces, blank
notebooks we held against chests
like concealed fervor.

Electric surge searched strangers stacked
behind tiny student desks, all of us
seemingly random dots form sterile grid
axis determines potential.

Our eyes, two coordinates,
like my X to your Y, connect
over red button,
forms smile.

Simple, single word forms line.
Form flies paper planes
morphs complex emotions
into shapes with tangible dimensions.

We measure by feel, birth
secrets like geometry is circuitry.
Our literature becomes chemistry
leaving all of humanities to define

new connections from our watercolor constellation
limbs play connect-the-stars like prayers
to each knee, to thigh, to hips, climb spine
where I leap-frog off our new moon light,

blind dive inside your rough drafts,
who wrap, fill and carry
me, like faith.

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