Sway

[melodicinkysin]

                                         I reached for you as a beam
                                         of pine, supple and sanded,

dipped my cheek into

your cautious breath.

There were paper kites and brush strokes,

and an empty bottle of whiskey,
the last amber rivulets pooled
over your wilted pout.

I used to bend,

roll my hips into
the ebb and billow

of your most tatter-torn
quilt on nights the floor was ours.

We carried our doubts in pockets
packed with lies and candy wrappers,
licked the melted remains

only when your lips,
pursed and buzzing told me

how the pages of your book
violently rowed together in the wind.

You left me wanting, scratched
my thighs.  I made you bite your lip
and whisper oh damn into folded
napkins.  We were redwoods,

swaying in breezes of nothing

and letters with extra postage required.
I sent you away with a dimple
in my cheek and a lilly behind my ear.

When you say 'the sparrow skims
the morn and we are the wrinkled
sea beneath him'  it tells me:

We will not flock.  We throw our breadcrumbs
behind us, but never look back.