I wanted to pet you
like you were something familiar
but your hip sway
and the curved planes of sinuous retreat
that mark the passage of your ecstasy
were too sweet
a distraction
instead
I fell beside you
on the bed
and learned you
the way the birds
learn to sing
and books learn
to be still
intimate without thought
you make me want
Sunday
morning
pancakes.
Wow.
Which is a totally inadequate and insipid response. So take it as standing in for the more eloquent and evocative words I can’t quite bring together.
Plus I am horribly jealous that you – and not I – wrote these words:
and learned you
the way the birds
learn to sing
and books learn
to be still
Beautiful.
And I keep reading them over and over.
Thank you.
o.g.
What worlds of memory exist for us in such a simple thing as Sunday morning pancakes.
I am reading your little pieces of gold for an hour now.
And you, your way of writing, ànd your words amazed me.
Précious.