lover, I fear the future.
I fear you, a century behind me
I fear the lights that appear
under your skin and guide my fingers
down and across
till with an ear against your neck
I feel the shudder of ancient wings.
lover, I fear your insides,
the plum-colored honeycomb
of tissue and pulp,
sympathy and deep hives of unrest,
in the lull I gaze towards the ceiling,
lover, I brave it all when
above my head, hands clasped
like a pilgrim, I rail
against, against, against—
vanilla, teak, tobacco,
I perfume my sheets with you.