"Notes About His Hands, Part 1"
Could I even tell how it was,
his hip on mine against the wall, my hands
shaking, had I ever touched him that
way in some other life, was his skin
always so hot to the touch, the shirt
I shoved my hands under;
Could I even touch him how he was,
Unsonnet: Dark Matter
You are a coin I keep under my tongue
in case I get to close a dead man’s eyes.
You are the galaxy’s dense materials
and the pull they exert on my heart.
So soft, you are invisible to touch.
I wish you could come back and rap me
like a wall for my hidden chambers.