Grace Returned

I know you, I tell myself: The turn of your jaw The slope of your back Pressed against my frame Hip curved and peach round Turned around your skin Is like your skin so Coconut white, I Lick teeth at the thought… Though words, much like knowing Cannot but fall short of Animal stillness, of The spaces in-between The anticipation And heartbeat and pulse, The sparest pause in which I cannot stand to wait Another second… Ramrod straight: a pull that axes through me Like a loved one lost, returned in a dream Is the sweet water breath of your breath. I know you, I said it: Your eyes are like your eyes As familiar and strange As the pounding of surf On a beach off Rio With a sky so close and low, So omnipresent that It could only be Un Real.