Dogbane Beetle

ode to skin on skin

She’s holdin’ me close, laying on that sinking mattress with our hips touching,
her chest to mine, skin to skin so pressed together we almost eclipse with touching.

A swan beats its wings in my chest, losing loose feathers in my throat,
my eyes closing while I slouch, lis’ning to all her quips an’ taking in the touching.

My body curls in on itself an’ in on her, her skin, her hair, her fat;
she kisses my chest an’ around— closes her eyes, too, feels her lips touching.

Her hands on my waist, feeling at these birthin’ hips my ancestors handed over,
letting me use them for a while, an’ for if I wanna feel anyone’s dips an’ touching.

Feeling that brownish skin like it’s some reflection of me, loving her like I love home,
leaning into all her words, even when she trips on ‘em with the syllables touching.

A hot wind brews in my stomach, shifting ‘round as I stir, lifting the swan in my chest,
making me alive, in some honey lane, with her who leaves with thoughts of my hips’ touching.

Honeyed Irises

To my lover in the garden:

Irises grow slow
and you carefully beside.
Save me a spot, dear
I’ll crawl low and sweet to you—
softening my palms with dirt