and he stays silent all the while,
takes my hand and leads to safer ground.
we tread pastures to nurture early spring
and spread our palms on the frost just-shrugged-off.
We pass by the Brownfield-site development -
the quick bud of generic prefabs,
the slow jerk of indentured men.
So let our gaze fall on the city spread,
on its ever more elaborate skirts and petticoats,

let our shoes find purchase on the grey slate scree,
let our hearts become unhindered by stops and baffles and checks.
And as the sky drains out, from bulked grey saturate
to eggshell white and freckled with the airborne buzz of insect,
he takes my hand and wraps me around;
we draw close and closer,
and his breath is wet on my pale cheek,
and my heart is racing.

and with the quiet drip of evening coming
he encircles me,
encloses me in the thud of his breast,
in his suppleness of limb; he and me,
we are intimate.

and in the quick heady beauty of skin against skin merging
the star pierced sky unfurls into morning