just this instant, in a sensation
like a momentary compression
of all my bones,

i recalled, maybe relived,
every desire that has marked me
since we met.

each potent moment represented
in some fraction by the sight of you
straight from bathing.

rosy, steaming, footprints
on the carpet, water drops
like glass beads on your skin,

tiny streams finding a course
down the curve of your belly,
trying to empty themselves
not into the sea, but into the
tangled crown of your lap.

did everyone just evaporate
or was there a conspiracy
of solitude set to abandon us
in the litter of trodden petals
under the frangipani?

did it continue as we walked
through the house to the gate
and met no-one in the kitchen
or in the hallway that funneled
loud music out into the night?

was the entire city involved
and that is why on the walk
to your place every house
we saw showed no lights
and not a single car moved
in the streets?

was it meant to end only
when i had witnessed the grace
of your limbs and the heat
of your mouth?