dew

If I let go I would tell you I want you
I would let it wake the day inside my breath

I would tell you I can’t remember I’m real 
without the flaunt of your reminding

I would tell you how your smile softens me
how I want to melt down your neck and 
back, chest and stomach and taste 
myself dripping between your legs 

I would ask you to cup your tender pulse around
my fear of losing you, and pull me to you, hard
against the feathery lull of disappearing 

I would let the salt waters of my relief glisten your honey 
warm lips, and wet the packed earth of my yearning with your 
slow opening, the gentle press of your staying, the soft slip 
of you sheltering me in the wildfire of your reach