Damp skin,
Creviced and hidden.
A flesh maze for my tongue to run.
To scent you and know with molecular certainty
that you are mine.
‡
I’m possessed of you,
like a ghost chained in place,
or a farmer burdened of land,
there’s no relinquishing the possession.
To own is to be owned.
‡
Moments
held by you
like pieces of crystal
waiting to be crushed
into dust.
‡
Time extrudes
along the field of pores
that mark your living skin.
I’ll leave a tear
in every one of them.
Previously tweeted on twitter.
Gorgeous. Moved me.’Time extrudes along the field of pores’ – oh, god, but yes it does, it does…
I know that … my response to this very simple piece will continue for years to come. I stumbled across your work today, and like most intensities, never saw it coming.