please kiss them
my palms, I’ve emptied them
in case
*
twilight
everything glazed with shine—
your hum
*
the wind
never asks when it touches me
there
*
these hands, two white birds,
your skin
the sky
*
soft breeze
my longing
grows longer
*
slipping out
of my excuses into something
more comfortable
*
The birds stanza — haiku at its best! Though the whole piece is pretty sexy if you ask me. I just wonder about that second to the last stanza, the “grows” — perhaps “reaches”? Maybe not, but a word to ponder…
“slipping out/of my excuses into something/more comfortable” Oh my! (And not just for the subtle[?] reminder that our excuses don’t really comfort us.)
I agree with anon, pretty sexy, pretty charged.