cunning memory

1.

the smell of lips neglected
wooden and dry
sawdust on a floor untrespassed

to move my tounge there soft
hoe through dusty furrows
taste the unused flat
where they couldn't go on
meeting like this

2.

i can not pick the fruit
her whole joining her
place where my face
a sailor
blissfully drowns

3. 

cunningly 
i linger
and cock my finger
at the vaulted sky
of the inside
and urge her weather
and eye her storm

4.

i'm am not there at all
yet i become her hand
becomeing her
when she
comes