nesting

 

I find myself touching your feet, your spine,
the open windows where I no longer can balance
                            safely
I long for you
the wanting leaves me breathless

I take everything out of the drawers,
put it back, listen
to the beginning of twelve
songs, the city, unpopulated by people,
just the coughing growl of the mower,
the lion living next door,
an insistent horn, the erratic beat of
blown-out speakers, waking to tires against
gravel and the crack of a beer can
opening

a dream of you in a basket, like Moses,
undone, open-eyed, breathing the beautiful,
poisonous air