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.