Nap

Near sleep, my mouth
pressed so hard against
your shoulder that my teeth
impress your shirt,
I slide my hand into
its home between your ribs
and waist. The afternoon
is warm and smells of cut
grass; beyond our door
the breeze lifts and lifts
the red tree’s limbs.

In this light your hair
is so translucently gold
I want to weave it into
a bracelet I could wear
after you are gone.
I want to always have
you that close, tied
to me; perhaps this sleep
might be the last
dream between us.

 

“Nap”
Wood, Acrylic, Hardware, Metallic Ink
12” x 18”, 2005