I don’t want to let anyone else in

yet

but I remember being loved

the slope of your shoulder

as you pressed

                              forward and I

yielded, my hands knowing

the movement of your back 
not

ever from sight

as now I watch outside the

memory a lurker

awkward and real
your love was felt

as safety as a rush
a ripple carried from your shoulders

all the way down my spine—
and they say you are so far

away you won’t be coming

back          is it strange that 
sometimes all of me 
is very still

is hushed as

lake becoming glass
but look—

there

softly

like a shiver

the water, watch closely

it moves—
tell me how the wind works

why is it like being touched

pressed close

all the way up

my skin

to the nape of—
no tell me instead

what do you hold

where you are

so far away?