Between lips and voice something is dying---something with a bird's wings, a thing of anguish and oblivion... Perhaps the imagination's.

Curve of the belly,
hidden and open like a fruit
or a wound.
After eaten...

Sweet naked knee
leaning against my knees.
After S...

Tangle of hair
between the round offerings
of your breasts.

A trace that lingers in the bed
a trace that sleeps in the soul,
words, words and words.