Can you play the violin?

It doesn't have to be well,

it is enough to pull lament

from a loose collection of

notes, or we could just hum.

Can your eyes be blue or grey

or brown, any color of water

that I might hide in.

There never was a shore line

immutable in its desire to erode.

Let there be a wisp of atmosphere,

the thinnest thread of a breath

we can share, me on one end you

on the other pulling until

the stories on our lips meet

.

Counting crows in the silvered

night, unfolding memories rummaging

unsure. Leaving birdland glowing red

hoping the eye lands somewhere soft.

TV shadows flick between teeth.

I tongued the lip's odd reason,

a pledge and a raise to a

flagrant desire. A mouth without

hands, the dog-eyed silence of

light falling through snow. This

contribution of ghosts held

close without rest.

Like a splayed chest that flowers,

opening into scented pleas.

knowing you enter me each time

as molecules held tight in tiny purses.

I will hold the flashlight if you will dance

.