imago (to Le---)

you in a low voice
a funeral whisper unguarded
one confession of many

"i imagine
 crawling over you
 in the darkness
 your hands on me"

and what do i imagine?
how can i answer?
the sole syllable that comes is built from every word i know all at once
a roar
 a plea
  a gasp
   as loud as the world
   an old-testament deluge
   a desperate thunderhead
  at the tip of my tongue
  at the top of my throat
hopeless
senseless
breath
 less
everything
 my eyes are dead glass
  mumbling noncommittals in the vernacular of the inanimate
everything to say
 and it rhymes with silence

what do i imagine?

a traffic jam at my lips
maybe i could speak
if only i had nothing to say

what do i imagine?

i imagine

you
                  me
you
                  me
you
    crawling
             over


                  me

in the darkness
my hands on you

your forehead on my yet-dumbstruck lips
   my fingers knotted in your hair
 your fingertips tracing alien letters on my skin
  our fingers interwoven
 our palms press urgently together
our voices thunder the shadows
and then
our voices small in the night
and then
your sleeping breath on my neck
and then
your smiling good morning eyes
and then
and then
and then

what do i imagine?

what do i not?