this thing has eyes.

its mouth does the wide thing
with flesh and teeth over its
voice which seems easily
keen and darts under its
breath;

it can't but hear to speak,
and says softly–somehow:

a dream which dreamily dreams
up the sun scarred air into
the summer sunlashed
,and comes through window
a little gossamer with pale
blankets of downy light.

(you are dreaming, my dear,
in our bed your hair makes
a dark coiling of itself over again
against itself, and the stark pillow
of your nape and breast;

–breath easy–

it is summer within and cooly
shrugs with the light patter
of seawind, gull throats,
and the stuttering jangle
of a somewhere bell-lined
noose.

how easy it is to be an orchid,
i think, leaning into my thoughts
and the words on a page
while you sleep
your lips
around
each
smooth
dallop of your
chest–breathing–and gently:

i kiss you in my mind.
                                         )   )   )    )      )