Look over your shoulder for the hustle of words.
Wednesday, January 3, 2007
Fingertip to fingertip for a first course;
the general mumble of lips, a spin of your hair
around my knuckles.
I'm leaning, I'm doe-eyes, I'm sap in your hand.
Then twist! Grab! Pull!
We're laughing, we're reeling, we're
snatching at each other's feelings as they
fall from the air.
Call me from across the room;
I'm mocking you with my cocked hips,
so come on, come on! Come play.
Eat your fear and come.