Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Stirring


The vague, humid hunger agitates me,
your scent still swirls round the roof of my mouth.
You slept in me for twenty years, a particle
in a wave, circling inside me, always there, waiting.
Those nights I walked with the moon, you were
eavesdropping and absorbing my midnight churnings,
sliding shawls of shadows over me.  Awake, I pace,
ready to run to wherever we are, empty and full.

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