Friday, February 24, 2017

Your mouth found the switch 
on the bare slide of my throat 
that turns off my internal dialog. 
So I have no language for your love… 
but if I close my eyes, I can feel it 
again… I can hear it again, I can 
relive each unworded touch, each 
speechless kiss, each flush of scent 
and flavor from your skin. I can 
replay it all just as it fell from your body… 
like some kind of memory, accessible 
only through the silence of my senses.

Winter thawing in Budapest - February 17, 2017 



Afterward, you sleep, 
and I’m quiet against you 
and quiet rising 
and quiet picking up our clothes. 
I hang our shirts and pants 
and listen to you breathe. 

I catch my own eyes 
in the bedroom mirror 
and turn my body to the side 
to show myself where you kissed 
a lovely bruise into my skin 
like a red and purple valentine.

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