“Language is a skin. I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My Language trembles with desire.”
-Roland Barthes
with trembling tongue
which would tickle
along your skin
if it could
I speak to you
yet again pretending
you listen somewhere
to my mumbled wish
although what I perceive
as your answers return slow
and often more ambiguous
than my words to you
I caress each syllable
as if they were your lips
silently singing to the night
a slow responsive yes
I read into your words
my desires as if our intents
were more entwined
than mere happenstance
where beyond these lines
beyond these idle musings
I could hold you more
than a brief parting embrace
(February 18, 2015)
subtext 