His body
   is a water tower & it holds
   gifts hidden in the bowels, wrapped in
   intestines like a cherry-colored ribbon

     our words fall into
stardust
  and he has black coffee hair
  
dark tea skin
     been there since he was an infant
spoke tongues, the language of romance
         but I was hidden under

   the bed
until virginity was okay
until he coaxed me out, a prophet man

       his fingers knead me
dough
to be a perfect flavor of snow & sadness
     fill his empty corners to the brim.