your hands naked posted by imani , Friday, December 12, 2008 at 8:49 AM, in Labels: ars poetica

just a tangle
of flesh on
weakened bones
yearning for
depth in the
bed of your
shallow waters
the faintest scent
seems better than
the flower
the drops that
trickle down the
window
much meaningful
than the storm
because of your
words,
the smallest,
most fragile
moments seem
to bear the light
as it releases the
air in a dense
midnight.