Touch II
Flint of your touch arcs
a slow blue heat, shutters
in the sustaining
distant wind
that carries your voice
two thousand miles
through land-locked
states, and you
and I could bathe
in this fire
burning us close,
closer
until the waves
of the Pacific
simmer in salty exultation.
a slow blue heat, shutters
in the sustaining
distant wind
that carries your voice
two thousand miles
through land-locked
states, and you
and I could bathe
in this fire
burning us close,
closer
until the waves
of the Pacific
simmer in salty exultation.
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