a night´s years pass.-Por Pearl Pirie

sleepless, each curve

takes me to alert, to keen

your hip in  the cup of my hand,   

ribs to my forearm hair, 

the nape to not nip 

and wake you, the shift 

of your mounded rear into  

the hollow of my thigh-spoon.

sleep has fled further 

than these partly overcast skies.

the moonlight wraps you close  

as I would like, close as permission

closer than the sheets you shift off

in the heat of your turns to find

a cool place on your cotton and your face

is shadow softness and 

innocence and mine   

is a kind of hunger.    

Published in the forthcoming Thirsts, Snare Books, 2011