His shoulders fascinate you;
Both mechanical and organic,
Soft, capable, broad
Like the horses of your youth and just as shy.
Invisible breaths and phantom winds caress the fine divots of your vertebrae:
Divots never loved by tangible lips.
Your skin bristles, hair rises,
Prickles come in waves down the limbs.
You wish you knew each muscle’s scientific classification
To give as a gift,
A mantra,
A prayer to whisper against his delicately whorled ear.
His eyes
Bottle green and limned with straw debris
They rest in shadow beneath sloping brows,
Lashes as long and thick as yours when you use lacquer,
Tunnels to the mind you idolize,
Panes through which you search for the pulse of his soul.
You think of his eyes open,
Think of what dreams are projected against their lids
At night, when yours struggle to escape the sheets.