Thursday, January 10, 2013


I am a whisper.
Of storms through your skin,
the desire-rain
across your inner thigh.

You are a whisper.
Of buttons slightly untamed,
the lightning-window
inside a metal frame.

This pinprick in our shadow
reveals a minor flow,
like hearts caught in a spiral
where the wind ascends.

And if dust settled
on the swan’s bones,
a quilt-sky could rise
from this field of poppies.

Until then, I am a whisper.
Of night tangled in vines,
the dream-pathos
exhausting your sleep.

Until then, you are a whisper.
Of thoughts shutting my eyes,
the curtain-stage
hiding these theatricals.

(From the book Selected Poems 2004-2007)

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