I spread my hands across your back.
Each blemish,
each scar,
all the imprints keep me there.
Light my cigarette.
Let me hand this fire off
to a new vice.
Sometimes I need a drag
to distract me,
to stop my stares,
and remind me of the possibility of
your impermanence, your decay.
But don’t worry.
Once I’m done surveying this particular territory,
I’ll still need time to
(R e) s e a r c h
the arch of your brow,
the decline of your nose,
the rise of your chest.
I try to hide my adoration for such landscape,
such celestial design.
Despite my secrecy,
you detect my happiness,
my light heart.
Too many times have you felt this heart tread upon you.
It melts.
It melts into your earth.
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Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Renée Picard
Photo: Chris RetRato/Pixoto
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