In the (h)rs Between Silence and Cathedral Doors

(I shot this image last year)

Autumn's breath makes a spiral above leafless
trees, where we are caught in the oranged
backdrops of candied moons.
How precisely you have become my mouth
as you attempt to utter words that can only
tangle at the tongue. How easily you have become
devotion that creeps the chill from these arms.

(A colder breeze suspends beyond the shoreline.
We shiver.)

Shhh, there's no need for language,
no need for fortification--
I have measured excellence, from the softness
of your nape, to the ache that surges from bone.
I have cupped rivers into seas.
Those seas smooth stone. The air that builds,
slips gently into our purging lungs.
We breath in the photographs like canyons
along the water,... all becomes beautiful.

Our lips sweep, and from any point of the body,
resistance breaks.

You can see the temperature rising--
the stimulation.

Save your eyes, I want you to consider flesh,
to know all that I have become before you.
It is all one can wish for when they cannot speak.
When beneath the fading moon, darkness sets
in, when you hold all that I am in the palms
of your wondrous hands.