lovers (no. 9)

lovers (no. 9)

this is what he wanted

what he longed for

with her                        (and only her)

1.

to read a book

she read

the pages turned

by her fingers

the book spine softened

by her hands

one slight smudge

from the oil of her skin. . .

this book of her

2.

to sit outside

in summertime

just beyond the shade

for them to touch

warmed skin of two

as he leaned over to smell

along the curve of her neck

across the slope of her shoulders. . .

this sunshine on her

3.

to hide in her closet

or beneath her bed

listening to her talk

listening to her breathe

listening to her laugh

listening to her silence

listening to her feet

across the floor. . .

these three spaces of her

4.

to hand her his razor

and watch her hands

shave his head

in four surrounding mirrors

a task like unfrosting a cake

leaving small bright drops

of blood across his skull

and running down his neck. . .

these nicks of her time

5.

to write her a poem

about the number nine

and every wordless thing

that swims in his veins

and calcifies his bones

and quickens his heart

like five tattoos

across his calf. . .

his gospel of her

6.

to reach down

and hold her ankle

the skin smooth

over the bone of her

this joint of her turning

bearing the weight of her

and carrying him forward

like six secret songs on a breeze. . .

the ground she has hallowed

7.

to paint her fingernails

a rainbow of seven colors

like Jordan almonds

pastels and fingernails

and he would

taste each one

as they sat in the darkness

of a movie theater. . .

him quietly crying

8.

to dream of her

for eight hours one night

calling out her name

and tasting her on his lips

in his unconscious world

where everything is clearer

with eyes shut and fluttering

and her there beside him. . .

the her of their bed awake

9.

to whisper in her ear

“you are the number

beyond nine

where most people stop

and then start again

with the numbers they know”

and linger there

beside her ear. . .

her he could count on