School Playground at Night
The air is still. I smell your powder As you sit on top the swing, Your skin the moon, Your face brushed soft By edges of the light Above the parking lot. You open like a hope chest. Secrets pass unfolded, Delicate. I read them hungry Though with care. Inside this quiet night, I memorize you. And I know for you It isn't love. I know you need An intimate release, A safe transfer of documents, A nearness. I absorb you And your lunar pale, Although I know I do not hold you, Don't really touch you at all. 8/3/26