Tacit

I awake

Beneath a butter sun

And in the young and yawning dawn,

I think of you

A midnight way.

Your gangly arms

Enact exactly what 

You're going to say.

I need to put my lips

To yours

And suck down all your words

Before they leave your very tender tongue.

If you would read

The poems written

As confessions of such messy sins

Inside my hidden files,

I know

I'd glow

A cherry tint.

I'm searching for a hint

You're bent my way

And living in the taunt

Meanwhile.

- 12/1/25