you and Geo

*

those hands of yours i love them,
like how calloused they've been through
time and whenever i see your stories
every moment we draw circles with our tongues
on each other's palms.
it's when i let those fingers run my face that
i feel how it so be adored, tender and wild.

those hands of yours, i love them,
like how we hold pans and mixing bowls and
let our waistlines do the talking as we
cook things and stories in the kitchen.
then, we consume all that is cooked, and all
that is raw.

these hands of mine, know the Geography of your
abdomen and chest, that your stomach are Spanish walls
and your collarbone tastes like Brazil.
these hands of mine found the best post-orgasm spot
in the world, and that is your chin, held so soft
between them,

then we kiss to the music of our souls
and our bodies fall to sleep, bare, whole.
and yes, in the middle of the night i catch you
taking photos of my face, asleep

and so the morning will catch us awake,
making out with the sound of the rain from the North
making love, forgetting if it's the fifth or the fourth.
*