not enough

i sleep
with the cloth drawn
over windows
      my body
a buried cave with dry
walls, heavy like liquid -
the cloak of dark.

you leave me  with spoons
pulling to the Antartic
of the left corner
where the boxspring creaks
when you breathe.

and i calculate,
sheep and doves
to pace the not enough
of your eyes
lips,          everything
breath on my shoulder

'That's Beautiful'     beautiful. . .  beautiful. . .
you say
and carve a hollow echo
where those scarce touched
stalagtites steepen
in me.  your words,
growing colder as your touch
pulls back
into your own.   light.


comeback C- 

back + foward
W | M | E

(c) denise February 14, 1998