Closer Still

We came to rest so near
to one another, at the end
On the floor of your room
Steeping in that scent of
lavender tea, calendula petals
I struggled not to smile, so
hesitant to reveal myself a fool,
because I began to feel
what I'd been hoping for,
and I thought, perhaps,
your rational defenses
were overwhelmed, awash,
dissolving away from you
And in that silent sea
we drifted even closer
Careful, I made no notice
as our shoulders touched
It was there, careening,
we painted our fingertips blue
We felt no inclination to speak
as our hands drew nearer,
and I was never so anxious
as when they finally met
I recall the feeling clearly,
but thus far can't articulate it
It was in that context
my mind held no focus,
as if it were overtaken
I acted on convolutions
of instinct and suppression
from then on out
And I still do

Little Valleys

The tree had fallen
long before he knew of it,
and in that unlikely rainforest
it lay decomposing;
enriching the soil
that once sustained it
He removed it's bark gently
Peeling it back piece by piece
and hoping to catch a glimpse
of what it might harbor
The flesh of the tree was now
waterlogged and rotting
but still somehow elegant
He'd plunge his hands in,
and the fine dust of it
came at once to occupy
the microscopic valleys
of his fingertips