Port of Iraklio '08

Your shoulders drop and those Mediterranean knees spread Into the most relaxed of struts You are the cockerel in his roost now we are home A long slow warm passage of air slips through my nostrils Bringing back the so many times before In hailing short and deeply, I stretch my mouth for the last time My ears grazed with foreign text born from ancient breath The rolling of your tongue romances me Like it never can in English I find myself in mental masturbation at the simplest of sentences So sexual, ‘’Ti cannes moraki mou?’’ ‘’How...do...you...do?’’ Chuckles awake me as the family finds us and replace our luggage with kisses Jewels planted so softly inside the dimples of my cheeks, then squeezed Before leaving me in mute.