If I touch you... here
would oxygen hiss through your
(suddenly open) mouth?
If I touch you here,
will your shoulders knot and
your throat turn pink-
my little voyagers descend...
will your pupils dilate
'til they swallow me whole-
and your moan turn the curtains violet,
turn the air to blackberries?
As my hands commits the sweetest
secret patterns
as time turns to friction
and your sudden cries puncture the room
tell me, would the blackberries burst?
Paint me purple, my sweet man.

If I touch you... here
would oxygen hiss through your
(suddenly open) mouth?
If I touch you here,
will your shoulders knot and
your throat turn pink-
my little voyagers descend...
will your pupils dilate
'til they swallow me whole-
and your moan turn the curtains violet,
turn the air to blackberries?
As my hand commits the sweetest
secret patterns
as time turns to friction
and your sudden cries puncture the room
tell me, would the blackberries burst?
Paint me purple, my sweet man.

The hollow of the cheek, rosy yet
Maplewood, quiet, yet stirring
breathless against the pale of the thigh
Eyes flicker in eighths upward touch secret blue
Hers is the downbeat of his coronary bolero
He, the maestro for her skyward glissando-
the unspoken, unbroken fermata
in the dying wash of sound
in the instant before the applause.