A TOUCH OF STEEL


DRUNK WITH


EXPOSURE


Without a knock
I Slide in
on a kind invitation

My touch
barely focused
I taste
Tantalized

hunt,
pure and
unarmed
lungs
with wind
in breast

Merge
feed on the divine

I bite the dirt
and
lick the lake

touch with
eyes
an endless
glare

I swagger
away
a jubilation
all too
real

Drunk
with
exposure.

Armand Hamouth

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