Sweet August Wind

My body warm and brown like yours,

Skin rough and soft in the same spots.

Wind enough to lose self within,

Chock full with summer—makes indoors 

Of out.  This gaze, not intrusion,

Not touch, though I’d like it to be, 

Were you to glance back this way, with 

Just the slightest hesitation

To entertain the thought, as I 

Am, are you this warm, slight breeze on

My neck?  Is that you—determined 

Grip on my arms, face pushed up to 

Mine, flush full of red?  Is this an 

Attempt to erase the body’s

Division, a divide we fail

Always to blur with our success?