Wednesday, May 02, 2007

NaPoWriMo 27: Improper

The fog has settled on
this ridge again tonight,
cold winds and warm air,
the chemistry of opposites
that attract.

I am lying here thinking
highly improper thoughts,
imagining the weight
of the warmth of your skin,
my cool feet against
your shins.

In dreams I massage
swollen bellies,
grown pregnant with
the imagining of a
cheek, a shoulder blade,
a thigh.

Mist condenses on
the sash windows and
hangs weighty over
my bed as I gestate these
particles of you.

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