still resting on the elbows of dream-skull
i smelt her pine kernel fears widen steadily
& her body unwind from its clothes till she
was the merest transparent flutter, generative sweat,
a pungent recession in the greenest basil leaves & i reposed,
scapula-height, watchful from the thorny shade under the plum tree,
composed, punished by the pricks of an opal brooch
consciousness receding into the faded pillowcase
this crumbling trickle of dust is the brunt of heaven's fortress
she said, baptizing me with ancient sand & sturdy fingers;
She lifted my bed to the ancient pinnacles of her smile,
where I felt to the fiber-optic core the things she said,
the stealth she bore as she kept watch, herself hidden
Out bed, i call you from your very own hand, your palm
so scratched, so postbox red, to come with me,
to skim bible verses 'cross the lake –
if they skip or float or don't don't breathe,
only bring the rampant estuaries of candle wax a little closer...
we will not be lost without our bodies but more found.

I woke in separate corners of the night, my fists
two tight, Ionic curls, my forearms two pillars
on which to carry back whatever dreams i could, or rest
my forehead's husk, still resting on her elbows,
my skull a dream overgrowing.

11/22/2006

Posted on 11/23/2006
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