29

your lips were seductive surrounded by smoke
i searched your face, saying only with the darkness of my irises
like coffee without cream, not bitter, just dark and tortured
that my body aches at the core
for your body

it was your birthday
and i couldn’t help but think
that you were being created
as i came silently, soberly into the world

how long i have waited
for you to emerge
into an understanding of me

your fingers tapered, intentional
in their grasping at air
your skin is raw milk
close enough for me to taste

feel the weight of my unspoken dreams
floating toward you on the air currents
with your smoke
weighted
waiting
waning

if you do not hear
they will vanish

i have tried to find myself in reference to other selves
but you are my guidepost
your wound the only one I want to heal
by opening my own flesh
to envelop you and reign you in
through dark hours

your mouth poison in its witholding
leave a drop for me.

© Kate Krupnik
June 2, 2003