Showered

Why are my fingers cold
When they trace the back
Of your neck and up under
Your hair? It is smooth and pitch
And I wish it were my own
To push behind my ears
Before falling over your eyes.
Willing, asking it to stay.
Where it stayed...
Your shoulder now holds the ends
Fresh from washing, shiny and wet.
I rest my palm there then drift
Down your arm to your elbow,
And pull you into me. To find a way
To warm my hands that you find
Already warm and willing to stay.







Moonlit Night
Tu Fu

Translated by David Hinton

Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Ch'ang-an. By now,

Her hair will be mist scented, her jade-white
Arms chilled in its clear light. When
Will it find us together again, drapes drawn
Open, light traced where it dries our tears?