What do you look like in the dark?
Do the hairs on your chest stand from the wind’s slightest
breath?
Do you still carry the weight of the world on your shoulders
when you are sleeping?
How does the night let you sleep?
Does it caress you into its forgiving arms and lay you to
sleep?
Where do you let the sun go when you close your eyes?
With your heavy chest and amber colored lips,
For your eyes that burn flames into the carpets and whisper
laughter in silence.
When the sky is painted indigo do you count the stars?
On your swallow-shaped fingers and your dagger-pointed
eyelids,
Or do you grasp them like angry wasps and squeeze them in
your gentle fists?
And when the violets pale and wilt do you kiss them sadly
with your golden tongue?
Do you bury your teeth in their silken skin and retract
their sorrow?
How do you feel in the dark?
Are you a solid or a liquid?
Are you melting when the waters touch your skin like tough
putty?
Do you keep your fists to yourself and bury your head beneath
your feet?
Where do you stare in the dark?
Beneath your hazardous eyelashes and beyond your pupils gone
ablaze?
Does the frosted air kiss your forehead?
Your temples?
The tip of your nose?
Your speechless lips?
What makes you lie awake in the dark?
Is it the dim lighting of the morrow?
Is it the tossing and turning of your bed itself?
Is it the tiny crack between your fingertips and the gooseflesh
on your skin?
What do you look like in the morning when the sun kisses
your placid face?
And let it be known when the tongue of the clouds reaches
the dimple in your neck,
You are claimed.
How do you feel in the dark?
Are your warm?
Does your sex ache to be acknowledged?
And when my tongue reaches the space between your lips,
You are claimed.
How do you sleep in the dark?
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