A Poem by Robert Beveridge
I inhale and each breath is you
deep smell of lust, sweat before sunrise,
hard-earned sleep. I have avoided
the shower today, checked the almanac
to ensure partly cloudy with no chance
of rain before I go buy milk.
I raise my fingers to my lips, kiss your shoulder.
Your belly is still on my tongue. The heat of the day
releases the scent of your thigh from my neck.
The hard truths of geography cannot fade,
but such small reminders draw you close.