And when I remember how you lick your lips

And when I remember how you lick your lips

I feel the taste of honey on my own

The soft pressure of your kiss,

The wetness of your open mouth inviting as the sea.

There is an echo of these phantom touches

A memory of smell and animal closeness,

The cool touch of popsicle engulfed in melting juices,

The round gum rolled and sucked in its own sweet sugars.

My hand feels the tender tips of pointed flowers

And flicks up and down the switches on your wall;

I scoop out the flesh of figs with my tongue.

With my hands I hold the heft of solid flesh that leads to heaven.

I interlace my fingers with the ends of branches to recall

The stretching of your arms and legs to receive my outpouring all.