Body

My face
my hands
travel distant lands
across the flesh
on your chest;
through dense forests
of curly hair
across the mountains
hills maybe
of gooseflesh
that come up,
seismic activity when we touch.
But the underside of your skin
as you turn to your side
away from me, the moon
rises when you do;
the breath to the east
your back to the west,
or a full rotation away
until my lips meet
the small of your back,
and move up
its love
the way your shoulder blades pinch
me in
suck me in
pull me in
let me in.