Hannah Leah

FINGERS

your hand in the curve of my neck
wondered about texture
created textual context with
pressure on my throat.
I still feel the pliant shock.
Your fingers searching for my pulse
trying to read the answers
to all of your questions
in the course of my blood.
I press my fingers there
remembering a fluctuation
betrayal as nerves danced
even as Iheld my breath.

SPRING

Cloudless
the night snaps -
I forget stars
until new warmth
pungent
and dangerous -
runs wild in the rafters -
blatant and
careless - admitting
nothing - things
hang in the air that
I cannot name-I put
them to my lips
inhale, taste - smell
something of birth
and dry leaves
fermented
then
filtered -
I bare my teeth-the air
demands it.

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Hannah Leah