|
|
your
presence like a needle each spring
stitching
desires
twisted
in youth’s awakening
packed
tightly between mine
and ground
your
body softened our wood
I
remain turned about you
deep
into summer’s scorch
my
peeled skin served as offering
that we might
continue
knowing
you would leave
I left
to
autumn in bathrooms
seated to sing to
stretching to expose
the needle’s eye
|
|