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
broken
by memory.