Garments

Every thing is a garment:
fur, blouse, garter,
skin - taut, loose,
rising, falling from your ribs.

This tongue moves
against thought,
the way thought 
moves against
the swell and fall
of a distant ridge,
and failing that,
returns in silence
to your shoulders
and your neck.

Because every thing is a garment,
even this silent kiss.



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