-
You are a man with hands
that carry the scent
of the freshest of flowers—
reminding me of the kinds
of plants we find on the graves of saints;
reminding me of hints of eternity
that are later complimented
by your kisses that drag like molasses
and carry the essence of drunken sways,
perfect circles and the acceptance of death
but I am quickly stirred awake by the scent
of the flowers we find on the graves of our saints.
I just wish our Gods, too,
would linger through the night.
