Here are my hands

Here are my hands, over flesh, where flesh has held the hands before, where echoes Memory and Plain, Subtle Sweet Seduction Knows Itself By Any Other Name. Here are my hands, over curves, Sweet, and over flesh where moments lost in depth Resurface, charged and full of spring. This time we'll do anything. It's been a while since those hands laid hands upon the skin, Where touching here and supple sweat has made The air released and thin... fingers tracing lines tracing patterns in the things they find, Recall moments lost to passion here: A moment drawn infinitely near. Here we soar with frailty, pressing hard eternity to let the scales rise again, the blood is pumping to the skin And nerves, these sour angels scared, they ring the bells... Come, everywhere. You hear their tolls You copy lengths, you pendulate from love to hate. Your nerves, Sweet Frosty Memory, you've let them in again, I see. The last of several fantasies. The past walks slowly to the sea. And over curves, between the breasts, The valleys sloping sideways only undulate invisibly. Where I let fingers, eyes, rotations, mathematical equations contemplate The angles and the soft trajectories (of penetration) Just as I'm released from haven Prison some strange form of eden, I am eye-to-eye with victims Sudden, upright, having noticed nothing before this strange moment. Suddenly, I remember all this differently... Sad has turned the smiles' sides, frowns have cauterized the sighs. Ice is cold and distance lengthens. Satellites rotate in orbit, photography absolves the moment. Here are my hands, on flesh, where flesh once welcomed flush responses, Constant Shifting, gray, exhausted. Here my hands lay skin on skin, Memory on satin sin. Patented, with copyrights. Suns chase moons and days chase nights. Written June 11th, 1999 © on Oct 22 2001 05:12 AM PST   0 • 18 • 1