12

the emerging of light,
and the breadbasket of a bounty
placed before my hands,
the hands, the palms, the fingernails,
the pristine nails, the clarity of them,
the touch of the nails against smooth bodies of skin,
the skin, the soft wrapping of the nails,
the quiet wrapping of the palms against the seams
of my body, against the outline, the stitches that trace the outline and contours of the inside,
running of the fingers down the core of legs,
slow touchings on the embracing body being borne by the embraced,
the hairs stand by their ends and dwindle like threads,
the threads of my loins that move as minutes pass into hours, into weeks, into months, into years,
the face becomes hard and boiled over,
the aging face wears itself,
face that is young, that is soon to be old;
it will look forever the way it looks as it sees the face of you,
of eternal time shown in a face, the intervals of the face, the bone of the face warily accepting the mortality of being a face,
the opposite face,
the face of yours,
hugs my felt tip hairs,
nestles my deepest hairs,
i stand on ends,
your yellowed face melts my being,
i am a phosphorous flame,
enabled to burn,
the end, the root of the sun,
the taste of wheat amongst the open fields,
encompassing the length of miles,
trail, stream, life giver, sustainer, and supporter of words,
cultivator of youth, divinity of youth,
your face sparks reflections,
your face enables history, veins to flow and to run,
lips that chisel the hardness of age and the current of wind blown from your breath as it sucks into my mouth, the wind, the air that i breathe,
my soul is blown back into me,
i can feel myself breathe from the inside,
the body is lifted, the soul is made indent,
the etchings could never wither,
you are not mechanical time,
time as an abstraction, that beats measurably,
a constructed artifice of human heart,
you are the continual time,
the time that is not aware of itself,
time that simply is,
epochs are constructed out of your wind,
the same wind that every face knows,
the crispness of your wind,
blow into mouths and indented souls,
cornucopia of wheat,
sustain life to my presence,
brick layer to my body,
put me down to rest,
on the green dewy grass,
lay my body there,
and build foundations on top of me,
monuments may be erected over me,
and roads may pave themselves above my soil,
let cars pass above me,
and let plants grow on my nourishing top soil,
giver of life,
founder of my body,
open your petite mouth and blow air into me,
let my wind exit,
let my wind be fueled by the wind of your mouth,
let your wind be the calming orange of a setting sun,
let your wind be the spark of winter and the birds that migrate south,
let your wind be the the birth of a newborn babe, and let her suckle the napes of her mother,
let the wind plant the atmosphere of living,
you who gives all life,
the blood of history flows from you,
dead bodies walk above you,
on your never withering top soil,
brick layer,
mouth of the sky,
speak to me and absorb me,
you ignite fountains from below me,
and my heart tremors in your awe,
brick layer,
life giver,
sustainer of words,
inspiration of divinity,
woman of the night,
woman of the day,
woman of the sea,
woman of the sky,
bring forth yourself into me,
and never exit.