Have laid back and watched you most of this night, your
wordless tunes on strings that could break like a heart in your hands.
I can hear your mind through the chords, inscrutable as the sphinx,
enchanted by the way a note walks on the water of your eyes
as I want to hear your words.
You, who say nothing, but talk back in the language of glances.
I want to unpeel your enigma, taste the fruit of your smile,
undress your daydreams. You catch my eye,
the blue shell of translation.
Time swings itself as though weightless in a tree
of shy apples. You pass me in the windowless room
until cold slips in, curious,
and you wrap me like a doll against October's slow night.
I move in closer, ice-stung and shuddering as a fawn's new footing
and feel it planted in the earth of my skull.
A kiss, a wordless riddle. I cling to your symbols,
to your neck.
Your hands turn warm with questions,
a desert of expression as the wind hesitates,
afraid of the door left ajar. The shadows shift themselves from foot
to foot, waiting, a tempest of thought in a pool which amuses itself
with ripples.
Let's count the fallen leaves on its black skin,
a mirror of stars and our heady reflection.
I become the infatuated water that holds your gazeon my glassy surface, stirs itself
slowly in your palm. I avoid the gaps of your fingers at all costs,
reflecting only the striking aura of your face. You are a conjuror
of keys, strings, pastel shades of your voice.
I press myself to the white
casing of your pulse, your heartbeat a sonnet that
invents itself in tune.
I unwrap the sky to its very first skin,
the days that renew themselves to your song.
