when I take few steps slower & eventually
things get vivid. The wanton flash of the moon
amid your radiance tonight is almost
something worth writing about.
I can't sleep without them.
the stars, I mean, not your legs
not the chill of another set of skin
to stretch myself over & let vapor
the heat of friction between want & need,
between around and not so much.
Your ankles match your sweater, can I touch
your nether continents? Kiss me stupid
or awake, or to bed, let me suckle
your heart valves. Our footsteps in unison
practically worth a manuscript. A sonnet
without a volta, sort of unchanging,
my want for you like the steadiness
of my irregular pulse when you get just close
enough to inhale. My want like this moonlight,
not illuminating enough down here to show you
how I would sing to the peach fuzz
down south beyond your navel
between where my hands
read your pulse by your quivering,
would make jazz of your thighs & the glory
lying somewhere in your middle, my tongue
gracing or maybe with a Z
the outskirts of your tautest skin
where I once imagined a blue
silk dress & loving your way out of it.
No comments:
Post a Comment