You sigh in sleep
As the sheets rustle with the
Rise and fall of your breath.
I wish I could breathe that same breath,
Hide inside you,
Drink shadows from the
Pools of your closed eyes.
The curve of your arm is a poem,
Splayed across the satin with inarticulate grace.
I watch your languorous lips
And think what Freudian postulates
Might be formed from breathy whispers
Gleaned in the light of dawn mist.
Lips that shaped me as if
I had not been before.
Fingers tracing the length of my spine,
Disassembling me as surely
As they shaped me of primordial seas.
And what a love is ours, as any other: an ocean.
Ruled by riptides and swells, all but
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.