a room

and window,
with shadeless scenery:

stream,
tapering to light,
and sky scratched slender
with trees.
no leaves here.

there is need
for me to sit, wrapped in fabric
that could be skin. i can be skin
in chair slid to window —

only trees and tapered light.

let us talk chairs,
straight back,
seat askew with softness.

i like the unclutter of this place.
walls could be mona lisa
or paper like faded lime,

but there is only window
and chair.
he was tension against my back,
with soft that slept me.

you be my chair.

i lean into you
and slope my back
and i am easy.

but there is hardness in your seat.
you cause restless shifting
that flies me from my skin,
allows me to moan my way back in.

-
copyright d. dixon
march '05
-