Cleavage 3

There is amber
Sticking out through wood splinters
Carrying the fossils of yesteryear
Preserved in resin, like an untouched virgin
Who was possessed of Amber thoughts
Dripping down neurons, flowing down tongue
Wetting bed cloths – while the story was played
In rapid eye motion somewhere in la-la land…….
Amber they say is the center traffic light
That stops to let gears shift
And lips move an inch, a modicum, a whisker
Down an Amber imprint on a bathroom mirror
And Amber too is a Jurassic fossil of lust
That never metamorphosed to an archaeological tool
Excavating a perfect petite mort
And that vestigial flame can be found
As winter-cold embers of the past
When flaming red loins could not muster enough courage
For a beautiful transformation
To unsilence a pair of amber lips
To find precious Amber.

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