day

I focus on the texture of my palm against my chin

the support of the forearm

the ball of elbow rolling against the wood

cheek warm to the padded tips of fingers

my living shell overlaps itself

dead strands paint my breast front

the strain of muscle in the angle of my neck

following my eyes: the truest function

the ankle cross and the straight knee stretch.

I allow the stomach to tighten

appearing studious, as the rhythm of my breath

loses symmetry

and I have drifted back to you,

focused on your pal against my face

the support of your forearms

rolling lips down the strain of my neck

the overlapping of our shells

my hair falls into your eyes

and appearing so amorous

we find symmetry

only in our bodies

touching now,

we have drifted far away.

The graceful echoes of our circular breathing

are again

by memory.