study

Between us hangs a gossamer of understanding.

I rest my blue-veined palm on the dish of your back
and trap a pocket of sea air.

§

You cup my knee as I cough in the audience.
Afterwards, the wind whips us to and fro;
you, unashamed, invoke your tenderness;
you make a poor shield.

The water calls you back
            and back
              and back. And why resist her?
You walk on the beach;
you get sand in the car.

We walk hungry as the day dims.
Any restaurant will do.
You smile without teeth, chew with your mouth closed.
You twist your lips to test the strings of its purse.

§

If we talked about God, then I don’t remember.
I remember every time you have switched on a lamp.

§

Shut your book, man of letters,
and damn you, look at me.

Ah, I cannot look back; eyes frighten me.

Not far away, a man starves on the street,
and we do not look there either.