we were all chatter and woodsmoke, white wine in the sun- age is a number slid from his tongue (to mine) and (my whole world was rewritten that summer) (his) touches (our) kisses (my) skin moved with a rhythm, and age was a number simply that, and no more (though my number was small) we felt safe for a while, then hidden, then trapped. age is a number slid from my tongue to his skin, (from his skin to my thighs) slid between us like sweat (like a mantra) weaving saliva-salt spells (his) touches (our) kisses (my) skin moved with a rhythm, and age was a number simply that, and no more (though his number was great) we felt safe for a while, then hidden, then trapped. (then we were gone)