you carry language inside you
as the truly faithful carry
their gods.

soft-bodied and diurnal.

behaving as though love was something which we could digest. such slow violence and always at the end of the day we are left wondering why we feel so torn apart, so eviscerated.

i imagine the way dirt from under my fingernails will look streaked down your sweaty back on the days that i cannot wait long enough to shower after we have finished working in the garden. it will be the way you will bend to snap a leaf of basil, the way your hand will grasp at a tomato on the vine, the way your t-shirt will cling (softly translucent) to your skin, the way you will smell like the earth that will cause me to pull you down to the porch steps, to press my face into your flesh.