Tuesday, October 05, 2004

skins barely touching

we sit in enthralled intimacy
mine going up in woodsmoke
a natural perjurer, my skin
looks just as ever
its emotions screened
all the singeing, charring
below the surface
no sign of the woodsmoke fuming silver
rubbing against my neck
shoulders, mixing in my breath
hood-lidding my eyes
sitting so close to you
almost touching
it spirals - can you see it?
can you, at least, smell
the woodsmoke rising from my skin?

No comments: