Soft mouth

I wasn’t ready

maybe that’s what attracted me to you

treasured and worthless

your invert chest

the ribs of a child

pluck a chord

sing a tune

I own

nothing but one

moment

watching you swim naked

the search of sound

pines still holding their grudge

your eyes emptied

your lips broken against wait

against my still entreaty

I trust nothing

only the jig of life

in your gamine limbs

spelling out the position of

dropped clothes like constellations

curtseys before the heavy curtain

comes down on our budding ardor

I feel old

against your new

shine

I feel young

against your ancient

eyes

I trust no-one except

the first sound

flickering over your face

as I dive

through

as sleek as a silver fern

shedding its urge

making magic of forest floor

all the glittering wonderment

in your soft mouth