D i s t a n c e
 
I could still feel your fingers on my face
After you called.
Some part of me stretched out in bed with you,
Some part, unselfish, unorgasmic,
Some giggly part, pink as bubblegum,
And I settled into
The gingerbread smell of your skin
Dreamily, alterably,
Amnesiac of my allergies,
Hauntless,
Squeaky clean,
Undiscipled
To any god,
Unallegianced
To any country.
Come home soon
To the honeysuckle
Of my island cove.
Feel
My sea foam whispers
About your shoulders,
Taste
The root cuttings
Of where I have walked.
Smell
The willow bark
Of my perfume.
Water the moon orchids
That float about the room.
Let's be unbreakable, impossible,
At the very least, inappropriate.
See
The hands on the clock are yours.
Understand,
You've been here all along.
The geography is all wrong.

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