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Parenthetical Girls

Four Words

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Forgive me, please,
but do repeat what you said
while its fresh in your head,
the way those consonants stretched,
before you forget

Wait there, that's it just
at the split of your lips,
before your tongue gives to lisp,
wearing that sweet sinful slip,
spins a crippling ellipse

A swell of strings sing 'neath the pleats
of my dress and speeds what beats 'neath my
breast until the song they suggest taps traces of wet

What wake that shape did make conducting
the way they phrase this endless refrain and
for the next several days
I'm braced 'neath the waist

Creased of these sheets and half
asleep it seems to speak through me

The sweet symphony might simply be
the sound of space between conceived
of where we meet

Might pure proximity then cease
to restrict that which exists of such bliss,
where that it rings of all things
with strict consonance

Bless we with breath lest we
forget what you said to loose
this noise in my head for that in flesh
unto death might we seamlessly blend

And should I pass away
I pray a tape be lain upon
my grave and these sweet remains
may play that melody to say whats
left between these knees at ease

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