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.
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