Christmas

You find me in bed
into your arms
I feel the velvet ropes that tie me to my mast
and I hear
I hear the syren's song
let me encircle your thigh, your shin
tighter
don't let me go
skin on skin
hull to water
eels with mysterious mating rituals
are you even real or just scent and temperature
your manliness - sculptural
yet inviting, soft enough to mold into
biceps brachii, extensor, flexor, radius
I want to inventory the muscles in your arm

Why can't we be lovers?

You arrive late as if time were not irretrievable
in cool blue, momentarily scanning the room
but not believable
in your search.
As I cannot reach out for you, I pretend I have no arms. No eyes.
Yet all my cells are undercover spies
Mind zooms past conference props: chairs and people, pens and fingers, water pitchers,
chins propped on hands, sound glitches
In this madding crowd
I want to sway in your light
Undulating reed
To be seen but not seen watching, wanting
When the amplified pitch of the feedback loop triggers a whole room, you don't startle
The crowd laughs
But they could cut your profile in marble
We sit
Like two arrows at a crossroads
pointing in opposite directions
Dancing in and out of each other's invisible sections
boxers reading distance and closeness
we both get that sex is an 'It' ness
I poke your arm and you touch my face with the edge
of your palm, as you lean in for a whisper
I know my scent is trapped in that space
Yet I don't know my own scent
And I don't know what your skin smells like either
You are text written in invisible ink
I stalk the stage, I unmute myself:
Why can't we be lovers?
I am calling out to you in a roomful of people
Why can't we be lovers?