in the stern per-second
  a full bloom
   ushers

neither fire
    nor blood

but two
    sizable lips
   purely almost kisses, dank like
    a rose in the rain, keeping
their moony arc hidden in
   the daze of a color's prime

to make yours naked
    with a smile by a hurled
  word from mine to yours,
   what beauty of it?

there are many others--
  flaxen hair
  dew of earlobes
  riverbed eyes
  sinuous fingers
  tiny feet

  take all of them
   but never
  your smile.