I know you, slender lips and neck
All rough fingers and supple touch
I know your hands will play want to play with mine
A harpsichord of gentle downward tune
Crescendo into softening eyes and tongue.
A novel on your lips is left unsaid
And I, tracing the pages with hot fingers
Breathing in each word with combined breath
Like brail upon the page your sculpture lies.
To know you is not an answer
But instead a exclamation!
An ellipses trailing into fading night
Magic hour times the dusk with us in mind.
Tenderly I wonder if to write a poem
If to find a pain that passes
If to hold a man who’s passion
Rare and violet like an orchid
Tumbling headfirst into acid
Is not better in its bloom.
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