When the sky folds into itself,
at first with hunger, greedy,
devouring color, now gently,
lovingly, until unclothed, when
night spreads its mourning veil —
I walk.
Thick from sleep,
my tongue murmurs
some love song given to dream’s ear
by waves — they whisper softly,
hug the curve of shore, sigh,
and fall away.
Yesterday’s rain has cooled everything,
even my ardor. Now,
stripped of swollen august air
that makes love thick, too thick,
I see you clearly — a man
on the river’s edge, uprooting grass.
About love, I know nothing —
only your fingers in my hair,
loosening morning’s plaits,
lips relieving my neck, so
I barely remember to think
about how you kiss her.
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robynjensen posted this
