memorandum

Yes your head lays there
perfectly rounded
upon the neck that pierces
the line of the shoulders straight
in between your arms
they are like roads that I know
they are just over the book open
on your chest and that heart you have
as a mark to the favourite page
yes the haunches are made
for the fight or the truce
and your legs in tension
as a final gesture
as a launch in delay
as your mysterious  knees
are there, responsive machine
turning around a core
that is sacred to me
while I watch at you
at your feet
with no hurry
to go back to I
to go back to me
while I watch at you
while i watch at you
while i watch at you.