(no subject)

[alimags]

You wouldn't think about the draft from window
the layered placement of hands,
what comes, sensation, the warm twitch,
the strangeness:
such skin.
What comes,
small shocks of scent,
this one like cigarettes,
the cold of brick buildings,
and that one's cider, dripping tongue like apple.
Reach until smooth molar,
far-fetched for gums.
What comes,
the wall and hands going to it,
or is this really your hair in my fist,
or
is this really the room?