The Sexiest Thing
The Sexiest Thing
You ever did was
To lose your watch
In my bed
Seamlessly removing it
From your wrist
To press closer without interference
Of its man-made face
Only skin and heat
Sweet moistness
Gentle breath
And its rhythmic unfurling
Fading in and out
And ticking off finally to the space
Between the bed and the wall
Where objects fall off and disappear
In the morning you reached
Bare-armed
For coffee
Smiling “I cannot find my watch”
And I knew you wanted it to remain with me
So you could recall us in its
Absence
Allowing the moment to rush
Through you
Again and again
Until it, too,
Trailed off
Where black is more than the mere absence of light
And space widens and stretches time
Into an invisible line
I knew I could find your watch
If I tried
But, I, too,
Wanted its absence
To stay and tug and draw
Me around the fragrant curve
Of its sheltered face
When you left, I rescued the watch
From dust and hair
And placed it
On my wrist
Where I felt it recall
The rise and the fall
And the absence of
Time
It told
shoulderclod said,
November 18, 2009 at 3:52 am
Thank you–you get it…energy and will only emerge through impressions. Its not a feeling, that word is too cheap, its an impulse that grows around physical phenomenal objects. The man may be the object, but the watch is the totem that concentrates and clarifies the impulse. Perhaps life, if it is truly lived, is pinning our focus on those totems, making a lived poem of significance out those impulses?