The way trees imagine open road
restraint is a highway of braille across this room,
pulling in meaning like birdflight.
A letter sent to an unknown place
silence hatches feeling
like an address on my tongue.
I search the curve of your mouth.
Breath electric with intent
our eyes glance then strike.
Inside each embrace undone you sculpt the
curve of my body until your lips can
place that finishing touch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the line, lips can place that finishing touch.