We lived, for a time

on the bare beauty of the unspoken

It was enough to pass a look

from eye to eye during shadowed dusk

or share a close space of air and light

We rarely had urge or chance to talk plain

though the words we did muster were

never complicated or deep

and the kind of language

that could lend voice to desire

was left to haunt the back of a dry throat

But still, in those keenly pregnant seconds

I would color red like blooms of rust

and you would quickly cast your gaze



I believed so surely that you were more

than the sum of your parts

and I lent you credit even when you half-refused any

turning from me, elbow deep in the sink and silent

clacking dishes to bowls to spoons

Yet still, I pushed it on you with such fervor

and circled my arms around your breadth

so that my chest was against the place where

your spine radiated outwards in ribs and nerves

all shrinking from the embrace


And truth is, I’ve had lovelier

but time and space will always make

watery ghosts of memories

softening their hard-edged details

until they are crafty, deepening conduits 

that ripple across the prow of our senses

and our fate will be to drown in

our foolish devotions


Gift me once again

a certain easy moment

a particular shape of flushed moon

a gentle hand resting on nape of neck

a pin-scratch of needle on warped record

and melt me afresh

every time



You’ve got my full attention,

there’s no quarreling with that,

and I’m reasonably certain I’ve got your’s

by the canted look you get when I whisper –

heavy-humming on the multitude of things I’d like to do to you,

and keen to the air drawn past increasingly rabid throat-catches –

so I guess we’re just about even in that regard.




And I don’t know how much it really means to be right

There are things that I’d like to believe are true

but I know that memory blurs, distorts, and bends

with time and desire like that moon waxing and waning

that I stare at in the pitch-black night of my dreams

where I wait, suspended in my emotions

grasping at something, nothing, everything that I was and am and will be