Thousands by Karl Wiemer

In full, barefoot embrace you test our fit.
Palm flat to my back.
Chest pulled to my own.

One thousand sensations
Painted soft on my canvas
During our evening's arc.
With the lush stroke of -
      - your hand full, warm on my chest,
      - you pulling me strong and soft to you,
      - my palm on your hip.

Three a.m. light streaming yellow, you stand.
Radiance-framed in the doorway.
Cast your smile to me on the street.

One thousand images
Etched line and form in my eye.
Rooting deep in my soil.
Fed on visions of -
      - your hand glimpsed resting on my arm,
      - you reclined on late-night linens,
      - my smile returned on your lips.