I met my love
on a telephone line
His voice like good, strong coffee
with a spoonful of sugar

He held my hand
in his warm tan one
Big knuckles and fat veins
knit through my long fingers

My love finally kissed me
underneath a sliver of moon
The smell of his skin
opened me up like Primrose

He trembled like mosquito wings
as I poured myself languidly
moving down the length of him
like tree sap, smell of cinnamon

I took my love home
to my chaos and echoes
He hung all my damp linens
outside to dry

With his face in my neck
I called him My Love
and he gathered me closer
his breath deep and quiet

My love for him filled me
The empty spaces
outside me fell silent
while inside I whispered

His smile is soft
as a cat’s belly
I wound his hair ’round my fingers
and wrote our denouement

My love is sleepy now
and it’s high time for rest
I brush his cheek with pale lips
and splay a curl on his pillow

The echoes are gone
yet the whispers remain
They travel over my skin
drying my tears

The sun spills morning
over dew on the leaves
making diamonds i might trade
for passage to tomorrow

~ Mine, June 25, 2021



IMAGE: Nareeta Martin

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