hand/eye

reach out your long fingered

white skin-gloved hand

in slow motion to rest one

warm elliptical tip

on the top of my cheekbone

 

near my eye, my hairline, my little smooth

run down to the corner of my lip

 

there I smile

 

then your finger, “too shy, shy”

flies back to the curve of the pocket---

right pocket---of your jeans

you’re looking down

as if to ward off demons of sight

 

but when you look up

your eyes like a child, bright, clear

I guess there aren’t any monsters

your lashes are steady

you seem so sure of it

when your hand reaches to the back of my head

pressing my hair against me

drawing me in and under yours

another child

my palms pulled     the color of plums

from the friction     touching taut sheets

tears tore my mouth     open onto eyelet

consciousness tried     to pretend I held control

holding a hand     behind my head

shaped like a gun     empty and aimed at nothing

yes I wave hello     to the beckoning black

think of the smooth sounds     sliding in would yield

here I hit     myself into objects that eat

my noise     like the new bedding

but it burns     its pattern into me

you do not care     and I cannot

tell you what     you do not want

you set me swinging     harder to see

the imprints     I leave after impact

the last night: under water

   the last night: under water

 

the thick ropes of rain

dangled down from the eaves

and flew into the wide windows

picking up the canvas in a twirl

 

Lennon in the crystals of light

and the river like black glowing lava

reflecting the lights but stretching their white

the crowns and shoulders of tree up with navy

 

that closed room with its own air

pull-towel like we used to wipe our skates

in the dark red alcove, light shining above the door

thin webs visible along the windowpanes

 

fingers closed on the wet branch

the leaves green like taut skin, luminous

hands pulling the liquid tail of skirt inside

flowing down silky moist black to where we came from