the dogwood is
vibrant green
with white star flowers
there are
bare branches
at it’s center
bring your fingertips to me
touch more than flesh
tell me,
have you tasted
sweat on a humid night?
was it only then
you forgot you were human?
i have not understood
the taste of an apple
a thing overlooked
perhaps in seeing such a fruit
with open eyes
i might better taste
its sweetness
the house is still
i wait
then you come
to me
humidity
ceiling fan
lust
the cranes are still
now
the workers gone
