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.
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