The surface of the water rippled with the gusts of wind. The geometry of the gentle ripples varied constantly as the wind moved labyrinthinely between the rocks, some of which cut it with sharp surfaces while others breathed it in with hollows and gentle curves…
And that softness slid toward the white opacity of your back, extending from the edge of the sheet with a relaxed ripple of skin as you breathed, your face resting on the pillow. Your face, in profile on the silk pillowcase, displayed the tenderness of sleep. With our eyes closed and our eyelashes finely crisscrossed, we were denied that sunset over the foaming waves, the ships anchored in the harbor, and the seagulls resting in a row on the dock, to which my imagination clung…
When you stepped back onto the carpet barefoot and walked toward me, your face uttering the unspeakable, I felt a slight arch in your eyebrows that rose in the air with the patience and ease of a swallow gliding through the sky. I wrapped your hands in mine, not knowing which of us had the coldest fingers and needed warmth, nor where the temperance that, at times, infiltrated…
Under what I had already experienced, as the morning dew fell, a web of perfect architecture drew, with shining pearls of retained water, a delicate, vibrant jewel. Then the sun rose again, tracing sharp rays between two ashen clouds that finally parted so you could give me a kiss made of honey and mystery. From that kiss, other kisses were born, spiraling into the night, rising toward the twinkling of a star, of ten stars, of a thousand stars that, scattered across the vault of the night sky, propelled us toward summer rest, beside the silvery lapping of the sea. I loved you more clearly, more iridescently, and a delicately crackling bonfire was lit between our sensations, exposed like newly sprouting flowers…
Touching and not withdrawing, but exposing, like the stream that flows along the sandy edge of the ravine, with its fish, alien, with swaying fins, or like the crystal glass, perfectly transparent, that gradually lowers its level with the thirst of my passion, lit among trillions of cells that await, with unified desire, your embrace, disintegrating the layers of tissue and transfiguring their finite corporeality into a resplendent eternity: the clarity of love.
Thus it was, and thus it is told,
docpoetry