Her mouth is a tunnel,
her eyes need a boat:
Blurred in the dark we´re
somewhere in Mexico,
orange peels on the bed,
peeled half peeled- like hidden coins against the pillow.
She pulls away the curtains so that the bent oblong of sun
hoists itself across the room.
It hits the white flesh of my arm.
I´m a lover,
midnight blood.
~she catches me like a butterfly in her Tuscon room*