Might I yet descend upon your shoulder unnoticed?
I’ll be as a drop of rain upon your coat,
or a guardian angel carefully landing,
existing just beyond the horizon of your senses,
perched within the outermost turret of your defenses.
I’d relish the majesty of the deliberate, rhythmic listing
The rounded waves of your hips impart.
I’d marvel at your soft-spoken genius,
The morsels of wisdom that begin to accrue
When you speak to those more decorated than you.
I’d bear witness to the unceremonious gravity,
That accompanies you into any room you occupy,
Dodging hubris with each quirky grin,
Despite the uncompromising gaze—so undemure!—
With which you tend to frighten the insecure.
Could I but once lean into the turnstiles of your mind,
And catch the catchy the bass-line of your inner chorus,
The lavish native tongue of the agora
Where your thoughts take shape—even if inchoate—
I’d content myself to listen silently at the gate.
And as I’d watch us making love,
I’d kiss your neck where I cannot reach,
Nesting ever deeper into your nerves,
So when I feel you shudder—and oh how you shudder—
I would feel what you feel, lover become lover.
And yet I ask my self honestly,
Would I even then close enough be?
Photo by Ron Gindlesperger