Memorabilia

[Kailashana]

Your hands rough but tender
explore the spaces in between
alternate numbers,
you know, those memories of your
fingertips we never speak of,
breath is a divine instrument of torture
sometimes when it leaves you all alone,
I have loved often and many before,
but I could not have loved you more,
had I loved you any less
Gabriel's oboe summons us from our
missionary position, Adam and Eve
did not make love
did not know how to make war
behind closed doors
with memories of other lovers
passing through their experience.

Age bore no relationship
and words had no meaning.

Every step we take is green. Every touch
wounds us with its beauty.

Mortality. Only gods can dream.




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