hone in

Navigation Without Numbers (1957) by Wynn Bullock ©

tracing my fingers  
in a crawl 
toward your spine

you weave
spit bubble
hearth held
teeth and leaves
an imperceptibly sharp
and thin meniscus divide
you ride undertows
flows, surrenders
and though Summer still
you bell sugar
to iron bleeding spun
exhales, milkweed pods
parasol paintings
wearing eyes
becoming noses
coloring to know
all fours
kneading
prattle paper poems
along my forest floor

EJR ©