the smell of meteorological
Autumn
so
you said
that
wanting me
is
very near
where
your soul bleeds
itself
into time
and
as you are crawling
through
each exhale
you
say you have
no
reason for disbelieving
the
truth of lusting now
you
say to come here
and
I say how close can I get
when
will my ashes
become
seed heads
the
letter you sent
a
few weeks ago
said
don’t forget
to
kiss your way in
and
that is all
I
can do now
my
lips and tongue
have
become a compass
ornate
with your direction
finding
a way through
the
clung mist
of
the near birth
of
morning
it
is 4 am and
the
windows are open
and
looking in
to
where I am
looking
out across
the
landscape of each
of
our surrenders
in
the turn wheel
mathematics
of trees
just
beginning
to
shed their leaves
my
desire is homeward
and silk-bound
it is waiting
once again
to
be found
with
no need
for
my eyes
EJR
©
Each word of want carefully crafted with elegance and quiet surrender.
ReplyDelete