in italics

and here the fingertip touches the lip, fixes itself below the chin and simply looks.

here the eye centers on the color of your shirt, the angle of your bicep, the line of your chin, the thrust of your hips. and here, even now, the brain surges up and over, between pink shaded layers, underneath candied tickling tones.

and the heart listens and hears and speaks and dances and straddles you and cossets you and sings to you. it grieves your grief and licks the notes off your lips. the hands cross over the knees into stillness and the eyes focus diagonally. not seeing you, and seeing you.and having looked for the first time.

to see the tinsel reflected in your eye, to taste the salt-spatter on your cheek, to count a woman's tears, that still lie on your pillow like slug trails that you follow into the night.