Paradiso

by Vinca Petersen

shan't we feel like

we're in heaven every time?

shan't the limpid primavera sky

stretch our worldly imaginations?

shan't the radiant sunbeams of June

set fire to our long stormy nights?

shan't the dew on the morning

grass quench our earthly desires?

shan't great ecstasies sound like moon's

lullaby to changing ocean currents?

shan't the touch of rose petals

feel like his melting lips on mine?

shan't the wax of lit candles liquefy

like our rubbing bodies peaking?

oh, my fickle moods! oh, the soft pitter-patter of

rain on leaves! oh, his chest, his pounding heart!

dear me, why shall I, why shall I wait for morrow

if I can be in heaven every time?