TheLove of a Woman - Peter Malakoff
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The Love of a Woman

I take her head and

 

stroke her face

 

touching her gently

 

my hands belong to no one

 

 

I watch her

 

semblance soften

 

 

We come back

 

from the dead

 

of the unfeeling

 

 

I swoon with her eyes

 

falling backwards

 

onto our bed

 

 

We swell with the rocking

 

of ancient rhythms

 

that do not know

 

our

 

names