Lie still as I unstitch your fine shirt-skin
and let it fall at our feet.
Still, as I unlock your chest
and seek from amongst your ribs
the memories that have puzzled you together.
Still, as I roll them between my fingers
and smooth their roughness with my sweat.
This glass-unreality will shatter
so let us lie still, quiet.
Do not breathe: it will end like a switch-flick.
We will be plunged back
into this borrowed light.
Lie still in our glass-house,
in which I hide your body in the hollow of my neck
as you echo into me.
Lie still or these gentle cords will bind us
barb-rope tight.
Bind us like a flesh-and-blood rock,
punctured by cries and sea-wave tremors.
©LS 2012
vimh 
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