Around The Corner

Doing dishes in the sink I pause and think of you

reading in the next room, framed in afternoon light, just out of sight.

I hear the pages of the book lifting, the chair shifting.

The rattle of papers stacked in layers, tattles on your settling cup.

Curled into your sunny nook, alone with your notes and book,

absorbed in concentration on fleeting inspiration

that bends you horizontal to the cosmic portal in your lap,

you chase elusive thoughts and images that ingress and egress.

You do not glance up at my peek and tiptoed entrance,

so engrossed in your words, my steps unheard

as I wrap your shoulders in my arms and kiss the warm

little hollow my lips will follow to your ear.

The smell of you is dense in that intense little bowl.

You smile and lean your head away, inviting me to stay

in my favorite spot with whispering hot breath.

Pulling your scent in deeper I linger, keeper

of the dream, it seems, as the glass slipping

from my soapy hands, lands in hot water,

bringing me back to the sink,

to the brink of desire,

and the quiet room

that looms around

the corner,

filled with my longing,

but not you.

Sybilla August 2007