Eight minutes to four
Sleep is futile
All I can think of
Is your mouth trembling with
Every shallow intake of breath
You exhale your surprise
Through parted lips, pearly pink
And I watch your tongue glide
Over those lips, then pursed together
A nervous-erotic gesture
You don’t trust your beauty
And bring your hands
To your mouth, covering
Your smile.

02/07/1999

Posted on 01/12/2003
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