I will search out your shape--
your parted mouth, the red esophagus,
a tongue limp with hunger
like the heavy sound of a bell.

I will find the dust of my skin
in the ancient impressions of
fingers on your body.

and In the cool stone of your nails
I will rest and grow to be the moss
that only you can see,
the downy hairs penetrating
the back of your long neck
are tall trees in the Sahara.

We will sleep in one room
and share exhalations.
Your eyes will be the windows.

and we will keep our secrets
pressed between our bodies
until they are wet and run together
like slick fish--

and finally, when it is dark,
we will lay to bed our cares,
our thirst, when the dust on the
floorboards retreats like a soft gray wave--
we will scatter our clothes and offer them
to the Spring moon, and peel off our skins
as carefully and easily as flower petals--
and then my kiss will swim in your blood,
freely and without despair.