Takes your breath

by Kathleen Vibbert
Pen Shells
Honorable Mention, March 2007
Judged by Pascale Petit


We settle in close like apples in a round bowl,
while the moon brushes off bits of light as awkward;
you remove the white shirt with button down collar.

And in between split spheres,
the hairs on your neck become soft-wheat.
You find your way through my breasts.
Hands separate dusks from the corners
of our mouths-
some colors enter and never leave–
the world knows how to cool and warm,
which scars never sleep and which voices say yes.

The world knows when and how to dress a peach–
and how the thistle slowly takes away your breath.