poem: you were sleeping when i wrote this
lips pressed together like the petals of flowers
preserved between the page of a book
brushed again lightly - a combination of feathers
and the ocean (Icarus’ search for heightheatlight
brought him here I’m sure) the mapping out of a collar bone
a strap brushed off a shoulder leaving it bare It brings home
to a light freckle like the detail of a star on a Van
Gough painting trace a finger against it then down
against an arching shoulder blade
the scraping of nails eliciting a
tight gasp until the shoulder blade shifts moving as
though there still existed wings hands trail against flesh
“I love your skin,” - pause, “your
shoulder your back” my words follow my hands like the
dotted lines of a treasure map a response - mouth
shifting like her would-be wings, “I love your
face, your cheeks, your fingers” our hands find each other clasp together in
searching I whisper to those entwined “Your fingers----“ and
the melting of wax and feathers becomes a
descent braced with ease
preserved between the page of a book
brushed again lightly - a combination of feathers
and the ocean (Icarus’ search for heightheatlight
brought him here I’m sure) the mapping out of a collar bone
a strap brushed off a shoulder leaving it bare It brings home
to a light freckle like the detail of a star on a Van
Gough painting trace a finger against it then down
against an arching shoulder blade
the scraping of nails eliciting a
tight gasp until the shoulder blade shifts moving as
though there still existed wings hands trail against flesh
“I love your skin,” - pause, “your
shoulder your back” my words follow my hands like the
dotted lines of a treasure map a response - mouth
shifting like her would-be wings, “I love your
face, your cheeks, your fingers” our hands find each other clasp together in
searching I whisper to those entwined “Your fingers----“ and
the melting of wax and feathers becomes a
descent braced with ease