cashmerè ( helvetica )

II
helvetica,
i watch you pace around the room in steps - four - three; two then one,
you're covered in white silk; a vintage film,
dipped in coffee, of whisking milk;
the air, it lifts your hair - of each strand,
that i've counted, a million
and two;
my hand sinking, in
your pale, indie skin; 

and your mellow breast,
lay, to my side, that consoled;
as the flowers, furled in shame;

glancing, at your nude figure,
porched;

- to the side of your parents' frames.

my structure,

gently yeilds; 

to your abdomen, breathing into fullness; 

it carreses deep, to skin; 

with each breeze;

surfing, like tides through my being;

as i feel your body, pressed against my plastic;

and,
for perhaps a moment, the world
withers away;

with all its noise, chatter and traffic;

humming;
into verberations of silence;
leaving residue, of your breath;

in slow, pulsating ryhthms;

- and all that has remained.

i would place,
your soft feet, arching from elegance;

around your ankle, runs a thin chain of gold; 

above my worn palm of fate;
in reverence -

"woman, would
you alter -

the lines, of my prevailing destiny?"
bowing, 

in seduction; 

as you lift my face -

my teardrops,

they stream north -

from my sombre lips, now south;
in drips;
soured from taste; and honeycomb;
as you run your fingers, along my stringful arteries;

weaving cashmere into my soul.

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