the gray circle -

and so the colors of the night, revealed to none yet known by all,
rush heady and headlong into this room.

the candle now cliche by bed
has rimmed the wall with elephant skin and lit the edge of your
topography
like sunrise setting on a veldt.

and your fingers seek my skin like rainfall
pattering to find their way,
my blood responds beneath the tensile, slick, productive surface skin,
though it cannot see the hand
or the force that moves it from above.

and the gray circle in my eyes that binds the color,
that binds the dark,
contracts so slightly
you can hear it rustle;
an animal in tall grass
a limb under a moon.

there are no beatings and the breath is held, suspension over the world tonight.

for when two lovers find the tinder,
fumble for flint,
for a word fit to ignite,
the gray circle
expands
again,
it does not tighten,
it reaches outward, afraid to bind the very thing that makes it holy,
the kiss of a lover,
the look in his eye.






GLS
8.14.01

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