By Jasmine Brown
Palm cupped around the nape of your neck
I don’t want to breathe in this moment
Tough lips
in soft teeth
I don’t want to breathe it out.
Spiral staircases give me vertigo
spinning around our house in lip synced circles.
Nothing will be remembered
once the first grace of gold balances along the blades,
so drink the vineyard grapes – sour as this season’s are –
and let bare feet turn over the cracks in our tiles.
You can’t escape the charms
in this house, the tones
– yours and mine –
humming off a buzz,
ignoring the hazy possibility
of dawn.
Hands are sexy, I’ve told you so before;
yours shatter porcelain into stars
while I watch – rings resting in something sturdier
on the cabinet.
Palm cupped around the nape of your neck,
I don’t want to breathe this moment in
Tough lips
in soft teeth,
I don’t want to breathe it out.
