Poem: Two moons, same sky

 

Tina Modotti, Hands Washing, circa 1927

Day began with a dream, 

eyes closed 

sight filled with skin

between your jaw and ear

that landscape below

all my animal humbled 

into 

a single finger

following down rouge river

blue, green, over freckle boulder 

pulsing, branching tree

rhythmic, slowing over

tanned expanse, a discovery

desire is just curiosity dressed in red

I think we both know

the way I want you is more treacherous than sex.