The words I read, the images that I see

The words I read, the images that I see
in the changing light. The names that crouch
in elliptical orbit, the horizon touches
the heaven and the earth. At its apogee

the Moon is at its smallest and the free
white light moves quietly. She is couched
by the black ecliptic, I haven't thought much
about the narrative of ankles and knees

or the choreography of breath. I can smell
the warmth of her hair, the light that is cast
about the room by her eyes. I nearly fell

in love again, language receives the test
of faith. She is the mystery I tell
in every poem and always hope to taste.