tailor

tailor

if you were lying
naked next to me,
lost in dreams,

I would sew you clothes
from words I know,
seamless-syllable stitched
by hand.   ink thread.

I would drape a linen blouse
around you from behind,
wove with arms and heat
and chest-to-back,
pearl buttons of hands
across your breasts,

and sleeves cut long
from wistful and yesterday.

for your feet,
slippers of sand and soft,
soled with journey.

and a sheer skirt
of lips and tongue,
loose folds of fingers
and August sun
would tangle wet
between your legs,

            a sash
            of midnight waiting
            around your waist,
            unknotted
            in morning light.