Is there anything about you that isn’t perfect
Don’t mention that mole on your belly
High up near the left side
The single maculation the single note of contrast
Your compact body your pure body
Uncontaminated with judgment by thought supplied
Nothing to judge in the flawless contours
And when you speak is not the sound
Like chrism on the brow
The scent of freshness the scent of ancientness
Dark in all the right places
Florid in all the right places
And your touch
Transitory soothing emphatic
When we retreat to the secret to-us familiar region
The landscape of forgetfulness and remembrance