Sleep like breeze, breath upon breath:
the haggard clench of the face
now the rain-lit blur of someone
behind a windshield, warm there
in that darkness…
So you fold me against you& I, tough
as velvet, partially long to be steel, nomadic,
that rigid Achilles bred to believe touch is weak.
Of course I know better, know that such logic
causes & approves of war, louses up spirits
& decays, a gradual nova…
Still, at odd moments, who does not wish
to be somebody else, thinking it safer, more
gracious, able to take the hard line of distance
& yet find intimacy sure as life in just water,
Chances are, underneath, that somebody
might long to be either of us.
Chances are as you hold me
if I speak my weakness
you might later use it as sabotage.
Oh alright. I accept this & make sure I speak
anyway, though perhaps nothing but sleeping,
breathing here, close, says enough.