the smell of skin slip cotton candy
{a}rouses me at night—
hearing heightened, but eyes failing

to take in dark hair like hanging moss,
moon-white linen clinging to moon-blue girl
above me—focusing on open door/

bedroom threshold/empty hallway
& she pushes the balls of her feet into the ceiling—
she will join me in bed;

her toes detach from the plaster, leave
a residue like duct tape from mouths—
I feel fingers in my throat on my breasts;

if she is my desire then I name her
Agency & lift chin, expose neck & jaw—
her satin-moth palms memorizing

each ridge of my trachea;
a brief necessary pain before
I can join her on the ceiling.