Unclothing
I watch you drop
your clothes
so free
so loose
as you align
and yet so not by chance
your glance across the room
suggests
an interval of /time/
As I await
an article of faith to fall
I think
if I could write
as you disrobe
so heedless of
your marrowness
no gravity, no stress
and yet so practiced
in your art
you are
of making lighter air
in corners
where the dark
departs
Your evolutionary hands
become a brush stroke
on a drum
a bird wing
on the face
the traces of
what once was text
becoming smoke
upon the page
then wind
around the room
then smoke
again
as I return
your gaze
I watch you drop
your clothes
so free
so loose
as you align
and yet so not by chance
your glance across the room
suggests
an interval of /time/
As I await
an article of faith to fall
I think
if I could write
as you disrobe
so heedless of
your marrowness
no gravity, no stress
and yet so practiced
in your art
you are
of making lighter air
in corners
where the dark
departs
Your evolutionary hands
become a brush stroke
on a drum
a bird wing
on the face
the traces of
what once was text
becoming smoke
upon the page
then wind
around the room
then smoke
again
as I return
your gaze