Ask the stems in the glass to bend.
Let your flingers fly, a momentary grasp
slip into spaces, surge in and out of folds
where breasts begin to curve and rise.
Be God. Press your skin to mine,
dissolve and pronounce me. Let my eyes
roll out and embed in the carpet, rooting;
my hands arrange the air for you, braiding.
Reluctant sun at the window, open your eyes
burn through the haze with your love.
Slide open the bone-zip of my spine,
anoint each rigid peak. Take my arms
and hold me. Here’s my mouth, hummingbird,
linger there, and hold my breath.
memoryhouse 