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11/24/2009 1:52:07 PM
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To lose you, it is nothing to lose you, to stand only in the rain of you, the rain that falls only from you, from the bottom of your hair. To lose you in the deep yellow of wild anise, to lose you, to climb down your heavy rain, it is nothing. And to touch you, the rim and depth of you, the lightest fold, the darkest hair, the beating wing of the skin we can never see. To lose you, and to be raised in the absence of you, into the rain that replaces you, the pleasure that precedes and surpasses either of us. It is nothing to lose you, and to speak with you as it happens, to sense the years grown toward this one loss complete themselves as we talk. And to run my hands over you, to let my hands drift over your eyes and over your back which is like a powerful sunflower stalk from which it seems your body opens. Doren Robbins
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