The wonder of your flesh
I live like long-forgotten soldiers,
locked in trenches,
for the hunger of the guns,
the skies that low as thunder,
purple grey and soft with snow,
now seek to cover us in longing.
My heart, like far-off hills,
now is the grave from where I rise,
remade.
The tired threads of uniforms
and scrap-yard medals melt
before your eyes.
Your skin, like early light,
now covers me.
Your eyes, like distant dream,
like morning fog,
now cover me.
You come to me.
You come to me,
like night descends on scars of battlefields
and finds the restless corpses,
locked in dream;
as I await your warmth and touch,
the wonder of your perfect flesh.