My Best Face

Imprint


Hold his skull lightly with fingertips
Run your tongue across his salty lips
And down to his Adam’s apple, stop.
Pause a moment on his eyelids then
Run your fingers the length of his face
To feel the white scar by his right ear,
The day old growth gracing his jaw.
Look up and stare into those deep blue
Pools where the abyss is beckoning
You in. Come here on the breeze
That blows in from the North and
Takes no prisoners. Feel your way
Down his neck and along his brittle
Collarbone protrusion, stop. Lean
And nestle there, your head fitting
Perfectly in the space between chin
And chest. It is only temporary refuge.
But when he goes and he will go, this
Will remain, this imprint of perfection,
A map made by touch committed to memory.
Run your hand across his forehead down
Run your tongue across his salty lips
Run your body the length of his body
Hip to hip, knee to knee, shoulder to
Shoulder, breath mingling, capture.