still
tucked in
the spoon of your hips
how many plucked
lullabies to sleep
i dreamt your
mouth gazing through
negative space to
the flesh of my neck
breathe my hair
inflate my spine
hold your palm
at my hip and
cure this love's
casualty
and i dreamt your
unkissed eyes broadening
beneath a furrow
wield the protection
of a greedless motive
but your lips make shapes
lubricous to the sound
of the mythical across
boundaries and wires
the tissue shreds
and is swept away
the sweat of flushed
goosebumps
smoothed under january
air-
under a cumulus
well-traveled
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