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Letter #6

January 24, 2011

You derail my train of thought.

The sweep of your upper lip

launches my thousand ships

and wrecks them on  your mouth.

 

Your shoulder’s slope

draws   my  hand  past your neck

to swim  in  the  currents and eddies   of your hair

and dive  down the middle of your back.

 

From within your eyes glow

like a distant  house at twilight

I am pinned in place by   the silent dare

of your  ruffled   breath.

 

And if I dig  through your flesh  tonight and the next

will it be enough

If I part what is  closed

if blood mixes with  blood and mine becomes  yours

 

will it be enough?

Grasping hands can only tell so much.

Miracles are fumbled.

 

In the middle of the night I stay awake

to hear you breathe.  I crawl  into the  pauses,

spin our histories and live a lifetime.

This  is as close as we will ever get.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 Comments leave one →
  1. January 24, 2011 12:48 pm

    WOW. blown away…..

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