He tastes of

He tastes of taboos and sandalwoods,
and cigarettes, and the farthest places.

He leaves my mouth as smoke,
and waits,
so I may breathe to breathe him in.
--
Firm as his torso may be, his touch is gentle;
he looks at me as though he loves me,
but he could not love me.

He does not know me.

But stolen kisses in the dark do give light,
and stolen touches in that light
when his current love's away
do fuel fire.

But shy one, it is not I who will burn,
and you cannot ask that I save you.

Reviews

[Ethan]

Great poem. I enjoyed the progression from smoke to light to fire to burning. I wonder if you might want to add a final line reading something like "from the conflagration". The feeling of desiring someone finally inaccessible due to his relationship is an interesting contrast to the poet's sense of being unknown or unknowable.