Snow

White silk has its own finished voice

as sheets murmur with cross strings

floating against one another. Bother

the skin with recollections and warm expectations.

Daylight's dance upon the surging foam - -

spreads, cloths, pads that ascent and fall

across the bed; she

projects an eye from bed white to window's unfilled

vision. Recollects the non-abrasiveness of obscurity,

the enthusiasm actually scenting the room, her sensation of totality.

Not prepared to leave the as of late conceived

recollections, reluctant to throw away the last

exotic flavors from the prior night, not exactly

prepared to neglect water across her skin like his fingers -

she allows the quietness to fill her, creating the hurt.

Her yearning turns into a melody.

She is loaded up with the murmurs of snow upon the ledge,

his final words a kiss that actually softens inside her.