Monday, May 23, 2011


slipped the memory
what a body pressed close can feel like
the moment of stolen breaths between two mouths
just before they jump from the cliff
to fall into the depths of each other
sordidly sweet
tasting lips for the first time
when you cannot get close enough
when the passion devours the need for neatness
when hands evolve to become explorers
to study the topography
of two bodies
twisting up like tangled trees
reaching branches to the heavens
slipped the memory
what anticipation can taste like
sometimes more delicious than satisfaction
longing calls out from the pit of my stomach
to seek out the fingertips
that read through touch
like a master sculptor setting bronze aflame
looking upon his masterpiece and finding perfection
amongst the imperfect
eyes that fall upon the flesh unhidden
eyes that seek out another across crowded rooms
eyes that speak without words
reaching in to take the heart into the palm of a hand
to coax the dead to live again