vertigo

I will take you home
when you don’t know which way is up
and kiss your
fingertips,
remind you that breath is life
and you should do more of it
and more of me
and more of you
will become uncovered

the slanted light
sun through my venetians
and my skin will heat you,
or a streetlight and open window and
what if the neighbours see
and stars strewn across the who cares

because I am kissing you
as though I’m searching for something
but needing nothing.
you are kissing me
for all the world as though
I was a perfume manifested
overpowering you,
the high
and the vertigo
right on the edge.

October ’13