Four Poemlets

My heart quickens when you are near,
if ever we should touch,
my chest will not contain it.

The dew of my kiss slips off into the air
leaving your skin cool.
I must kiss it again.

The air hovers indecisively
between coolly damp, heavily humid.
The rain on the street flows and puddles.
In the puddles I see reflections
of the steel gray wool above.

An evening on the verge of autumn.
A breeze rustles the leaves.
Tattered shadow-clouds cross a sky
dusted with tentative stars.


About Cary

I write, more nonfiction than fiction lately, and that's mainly because I started a podcast about the history and culture of Brazil. Reading for that is dominating my reading time too - as you might have guessed. I'm an American expat who lives in southern Brazil. Aside from history, reading and podcasting, I enjoy cooking, hiking and improving my Portuguese. I teach English for a living. View all posts by Cary

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