by Ana Reisens
A moonlit equation
Tell me
my property is
the circular memory
of dusk
hovering above
my chest, this parabolic
curve of collarbone, the growing
probability of non-linear hips, a bounded
matrix of half-parted lips. Let this
become our midnight
hypnosis:
this gentle
exploration of
every glowing derivative,
the open ratio of space to time
between fingertips, strands of
warm polynomial
knowing, whispers
of non-linear
infinity.
***
This is not a love poem
This is your y chromosome,
the hairs of your big toe,
your Adam’s apple
& mismatched socks.
This is your crooked grin,
the wrinkle by your left eye,
every skin-kissed freckle
& peeling bottom lip.
This is the pale
quilt of fading day
& yesterday’s
winter rain,
a river
of unwritten
fingertips.
If anything,
this is a whisper,
a beginning,
a hesitant,
budding blush.
Art by Steve Johnson on Instagram @artbystevej
