easy
i follow the metronome of your whistle
the laugh you click behind your teeth
sounds like a bird
a call to come closer
you run circles around me
slow ones
so slow that i don’t notice you near
until you are closer
than what is polite
is it the fig you promise
when you look at me like that
is it the years of letters
the subtle promises to love one another
the eyes behind your eyes
warm to me
study my shape
and imagine it too
are you pretty there yes
will you show me yes
you might surprise me
might be aggressive and limber
might hold me hard
might slip fingers into the wet
and drum
until the air sucks in fast
the hand behind the hand
draws lines
make sharp straight turns
i pinch out stories
from the spaces you leave
the lip behind the lip
has kissed me already
and i collect the movement of you
pressing me nearly open
easy
like the pink dawn of mountains
slow stain of the sun
how warm
this morning
you sit with me behind you
close as a potter’s folded clay
your head falls on my shoulder
as i hold you
i think on the weight of our worlds
our
through the ages
you shift your weight
asking for the touch of my hands
along the sweet country of your back
how smooth it is
how warm and dark and wooden brown
it is so hazy in my room
from lovemaking, from our sleep
that it seems as if your back should leave color on my fingertips
seems like i should taste more than your skin and stories
at this moment
i think on the legacy of our backs
how, as our ancestor’s children
they don’t hold the ribbons and scars
the peculiar measure of obedience, of terror
it was so long ago
the modernists tell me
when are you going to shake loose the story
tears can’t clean your yesterdays
i think of all this
as i close my eyes
and hold you nearer than before
my cheek on your back
as if the places i touch you
can see into a yesterday
see into the brutality
and wish it’s stain away
i shift my weight
now it’s my smooth belly
the pillows of my breasts
heartbeat
and my head resting on your back