There is no word to describe

The textures of skin at night,

The movement of flanks beneath familiar sheets

The blue of moonlight over white

There is no map to find the body freeway.

The patches of warm and cool,

Smooth, pebbled, hair coarse and fine,

Nail and callus, this bone-covered jewel.

 

I am singing the body topography

The taste I require,

The sweat in the crook of your arm,

Stubble below your knee

The shape of a toe

 

Remembering vibrations

Visions

Vicissitudes

 

strands of desire