all of the angels and saints
a peeping tom posse come
out the closet of your smile

and i'm an elaborate contradiction
nostrils aflame between the constellated marble
of your nocturnal thighs rotating shaky

my beard's growing floorward like embarrassed eyes
collapsing into this new mountain hermit look
i embrace the ferocity of your voluptuous drive

my lungs yearn to huff it
and await each return with
the patience of a monk