Wednesday, July 18, 2012

I put my breath right up against the soft

I put my breath right up against the soft
and glowing skin. The air outside is dry
with January, she crunches the dried
banana slices. A spent leaf floats soft

upon the air onto the ground, the soft
feathers of birds sound in the trees. I dry
my hands on my jacket, look through the drying
strands of hair about her head. The softness

of her neck and cheek has me in love
with all small animals. I put my hand
up to her and I feel more than awake,

more than a man that merely is in love
with holding her. I open both my hands
to receive dreams from which I'll never wake.

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