Night Poem
There’s a gentle scraping against the wall.
A gentle scraping.
There’s a warmth that spreads
through the veins,
to the skin,
to the feet and then
to the earth below.
To the earth where
it is received like a kiss,
a promise, a question.
There’s a sound on the air
like water, like blood, like
silvery laughter breaking
against a hill,
and the soft rush of breathing
against the hollow of his neck.
/ / /
28 February 2023
State College PA
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