I never recall the actual moment I bite my
tongue. I do, obviously, bite my tongue
because as soon as I open my eyes, the pain
comes over me faster than daylight.
It seems I do this whenever you slip into a dream of mine,
and we are again coiled and naked on a sheet. And at some
point frost begins to settle on our most favorite hiding place,
and we are aloft in the world, sired only to joy.
I see you now, your red hair aflame
streaking across the sand with the
turquoise waves ebbing
in your trail.
Ouick, ask me what it is that I admire
about you, and my lungs will fill with the salt air
and I will tell you before I wake to the pulsing
pain of a bleeding tongue.
It is your ability to stare down a mountain and plot out
its demise and how you always manage to entangle me
with only a smile, when I am sleeping and
trying so very hard to not think of you.
