angles

love is
your arm around my leg
while i reach for a blanket
and your lips.

i reference sundays with you when what i really mean is the angle of your face from my vantage point on a bed, shades of blue, a stereo on in another room, a faucet dripping.

your face:

i could stare
at your face
for days.

the grey somehow on your chin.

i'm afraid of your attention,
and of the way the sunshine glances your room.

we don't hesitate
to wince while shaking hands up and up and up.

to what?

"i want your wandering."

"do you. oh."

and i say to you - to your beautiful angle: "eloquence, you know, it was a river too."

you

shake

me

alive.