the tongue collapses
in my cave mouth
while his eyes stream
across mine,
and i, mute, shout of
our separation,
each silenced syllable
pounding,
waiting for his
caress.
our sense-enabling
stratification,
an unspeaking
passage of recognition,
stands hazy with time.
he would have told me,
had not the seconds strode
onward, that our singularity
belies us, that we will amplify,
that our futures are not less kind.
i could have sung his confirmations
for the duration,
moving from this crooked swing
to the top of an all-seeing evergreen;
but, here, as his glance retreats,
these words, exiled
by impotence, sink fast
toward the ebbing
hushes of stagnancy.
No comments:
Post a Comment