Vespers by Timothy Liu
So many want to be blessed.
I only want to kneel in a quiet room.
To love what we have or not exist
at all. Nothing to help me sleep.
Only a scrap of paper slipped
into my hand: Your body an ocean,
a song without end. Votive candles
flickering in the dark that made us
larger than life: hip-thrust,
back-arch, mouth-grip, you on top
till we collapsed in the coiled
springs that came to rest. A chair
where you once sat. A bowl of fruit
neither one of us would touch.
The most resonant part of Vespers for me is the line, “Only a scrap of paper slipped / into my hand: Your body an ocean, a song without end.” So enthralled was I by that particular imagery that I made this little ditty, which I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy (Note: The image is a royalty-free stock image—I have simply added the words to the note in the center):
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