How natural to press you close to me,
to feel tension lessen…lessen…in your
slender frame. My long arms enwrap this dream
turned real, your breath releasing like rapture
from a sacred hymn—my strong arms holding
back their power, honoring your tender
presence; your welcoming arms enfolding
me so softly the room glows in splendor.
How still we stand, as if sculpted in some
ancient marble by Polydorus, as
if we’ve always belonged right here. We’ve come
a long way, yet chart farther still to pass
the test of friends. Leaving, you turn me meek
through second touch: your lips against my cheek.
Roger Armbrust
February 8,
2013
