I fidget in the corner darkness
because I want to see you come;
Closer to the infinitesimal
since I played this moment quietly.
The way the subtle light hits
makes my hand look somewhat older
But I can’t confess a paragraph
to keep my lips against your shoulder-
I taste the sinewed hardwood floor
I’ll lean against the wind;
I can feel the watery atmosphere
from the position I am in.
My reference point is a line
entwining red-blue rising luck,
Positioned to the synchronous inhale-
I like to see you from feet up.