oh that slight sidling away from the issue,
the words that run away with my
miscreant mouth-- troublesome tongue--
come find me, find me where i lay and strip
the very marrow from my bones,
let us argue about the meaning of art
and whether god and nature truly exist.
and my fingers, dancing nimbly around yours,
writing circles onto the bare skin of your back
and palms that flash like hummingbirds
against your broad and carefree chest
while my back arches for your touch,
hopeful hips-- lithe legs-- i seek you
early in the morning, or late
at night when it's too quiet for peace.
my body that keens like a seagull
when you're gone, searching empty shores
for your track-- eager eyes-- sunburned skin--
chasing you home or nowhere, to find you
where you would keep me for more than a minute.