I watch for you and breathe in
thick winter fog, breathe out
steamy aromatic memories
I had inhaled when last with you.
I balance the breaths, juggle
the frosty earth and whitened plants,
the pale smudge in the sky that is the sun,
the paler smear that is the moon,
the icy malingering mud,
the dark matter between celestial bodies,
all on the one hand, while on the other,
your earlobe held by my lips, your
suddenly hot cheek, your tropical sigh.
I stare at the horizon, my eyes fixed for you,
and I am already with you, I am open.
Starlings and juncos mistake the fog
frozen on my eyes for infinite sky.
Turning, wheeling, squawking
squadrons of black birds enter my open eyes
and fill my entire body with their wild cries.
They exult and sing and their flapping wings
tickle and heat me as I stand waiting,
watching for you to arrive
with your beauty and sweet hot breath.
Bookmark/Search this post with:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
