When you shuck off your sweatshirt
and shake your hair out with your hand,
I can hardly bear to let you go
to shave your legs
or write a poem
or to admire the dark summer color of the prairie rose.
I gather in your abandoned second skin,
wrapping the sleeve around my wrist
so that I can tell time by the you-warmth still there and pressed at my pulse points.
There is mojo and sweetgum in everything you have touched--
it is medicine for every longing.
Outside the window is the redbud tree,
scratching on the glass as if it were some beautiful prisoner.
Come back to bed, honey--
I crave the tang and scent of you,
and to brush my face,
everything I am and all my desire
against the dark summer color of the prairie rose.
for Karen's word list at Real Toads.
I wanted to add Roxy Music's song "Prairie Rose", but they didn't have a good recording of it.
News note: today is my birthday!