Still Life

We’d often

been included in

the weather, whose

changes (as in the

still, portending

darknesses of after

noon) were hardly

evident, if even

manifest at all.

The August rain

over Mixcoac

& the deadening

of all aspect

at a distance:

yet our sudden

wet bodies, firm

swelling divested

finally of shirts

& trousers, left

beside turbid

footprints on

the tiled floor;

this tongue, these

lips the lightning

over the unchartered

landscape of your

thigh: successive

terra nova to

resist the still

life of the body