I know that you have lines in your face
though
you seldom hold an expression
wanting to avoid those
tattle-tell creases of emotion
that criss-cross aging flesh

the way well-worn shoes
tell of many miles walked

the way leather
wrinkles with the touch of dust

                   you relax
                          this will pass
             the way water runs
from high to low
              down the spine of the world
              or the small of your back.

you arch your neck,
I've seen it well
the shower is full of steam
                             but

your skin has its own landscape
       the way mountains erode
what once was a tall peak

wilts into the sea
the way shells are crushed
back into the grains

I know you have kept your face still
holding emotion in
the way a bomb waits
               until it can do nothing

but explode

and you tighten up into a ball
and kiss my neck

the way the wind kissed me
as I were new born
swimming in an autumn pool
                        just me
and you

and your eyes made of leaves
your hair, with streaks of wheat
              your ears, of my words
you hear everything.

I know that the lines, absent from your face
                 are the way you twitch
and the way you

ache to love, love to ache
                   and sing my name
I see all of this, the way a kite
is found by its string

your face beneath me, against me
the rolling waves, we crash.
I make lines, and tread across your chest.