December on The Chesapeake Bay
this is such a place of wanting
of lips that trace your spine
relentless desire pressed to the dark
as the chadored earth rises to her lover sky
you loved me, like a miracle
something like breath held
lost to the depth of me, your hands
like Mozart engulf
the flutter of leaves your eyes
holding me like more than hands
the exercise of being taken
over to the core
tiny bells in wind the bay
in winter, your hands sure
my heart in your eyes
a profusion of birds
an epiphany of piano is too simple
to trace your outline
on my body, your scent
sheets, towels the daily
waking at the sound of your name
driven over the dunes
fast wind sail
steady
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