Five times today I thought I saw you moving
in the far corner of my chest, & brightness
begins: my cavalier attitude mapped out
on rose buds, winged clocks beating furious
time. Dear You, I want each & all of you
standing wet from the shower, Chicago light
streaming in, epiphany after ecstatic
epiphany spinning my head round the you
in front of me, the you I want to wake up to,
my hands resting & dizzy after nights
tracing paths on your skin. Dear You,
you wouldn't know it but my sense of touch
is dead - I feel things that aren't there & can't
feel the real tremors tingling but I feel you
in different ways. You - in moments,
in lingering segments: that orange peeled
open & its bright bright sweetness; & you -
embraced all at once: your words read
in early morning as light floods the room.