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.

 

-Dec. 2002