Christine Deavel

Carnal (A New Opening into His Body)

The brief scratch on his thumb is
thin and straight, as distant

as a vapor trail in the sky
of the sky. What's a trampoline

to the jet engines of his separateness?
His moist skin roars its speed as he sleeps

beside me. Swoop up, lips,
to the cut, this entrance, but

the distance between us maintains its half-life.
Ever the sheet of paper (it started all this),

the snowdrop petal, the breath of a cricket
fit between my unblinking mouth

and his fragrant thumb. Each morning
the cut dissolves further into him, further

from me. Regeneration of the body
keeps the body to itself.

Passionately patient, I wait to mingle with him
in the worm's gut. Oh, my love.

Copyright 1996, Christine Deavel

Christine Deavel is a co-owner of Open Books: A Poem Emporium, a poetry-only
book store in Seattle.