By Jordan Elsely-Kolhman

The sun shone on Monday morn
in strands of flaxen memory.

Out past the horizon sat a visage,
its magnificence sifted through the atmosphere,
but those minuscule collisions resulted
in splendor unrequited.

The gentle warmth of lips shifting
into smiles a million miles away
lifted midnight mists,
weekend haze cut into
static fragments
by moments of focus.

We play our celestial parts,
bodies revolving in and out of
eclipses, simply wishing for
the bliss of glimpses.

This life is but a struggle
through ellipses into
…
periods of certainty.