anatomy

cardamon -

that is the flavor

that my lips

cannot forget

as i sit here

head in hand

palms over eyes

comma in my throat

recalling the meal

we prepared together

you stirred

i poured

we laughed

at the wine's illustration

still

on a tuesday

all this time later

i'm tryin to figure out

from which part

of our body

betrayal comes

not our hands

- i'm certain

they are for writing odes

to love

holding desire near

nor our hearts

that sacred dwelling

for all that

is divine

not our shoulders

they are for leaning

upon

the closest i can surmise

is our knees

for

they are the halfway point

between our thighs

that cavernous

palace for all that is tender

and

our feet

coarse

from walking away