Shabbos Song

Together on the futon after a week 

of finding parking spaces in packed garages,

I watch your lips move toward my face,

smell the air as it tunnels inside your ear.

I am the lupine that grows behind our place,

a trellis of seed pods with a few purple blossoms

at the bottom of my stalk where 

you bend to pet them

my body dissolves 
in the wet wood covered with pine needles 

and my mind escapes through my mouth,
naked, a hole

you sniff for a den. 
I want you to find me.

I'm not anywhere to be found.
You ask, Can you feel me?