I cannot pry apart
what makes your name
give a little pulsate to my tiny heart

Was it the same touch
And gust of breath—
That mortified my bones
as yours notified in mine

Of the soft
November’s day eve
Wet ankles against the
frost heave

A wanted savour for your lips
and a gentle
trace of fingertips

And the warmth of you
transcended
and blended
into me.