AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

In Coffeehouse shadows,
Moonlight collects on faces
Of silver wear,
Reflects off my earrings
Brightens the ragged skies
Of my half-open windows,
Your eyes are miles of sun filled shoreline
Filled with invitation
To leave this grey-stained city I have become.
Cups rattle, strangers whisper
As I listen in sin,
And graze on the damp fur of rumor.
But then your voice sighs
Through my hollows
I push away from those shallows of myself,
Force my fingers across distances
To find hands that beckon
Toward Your sweet and foreign country.