Amante XIII

Amante feel my fingers press,
navigate the landscape
of your spine. I settle my hair
in the hollow of your bones,
whisper comfort between ridges
of rib, rub your neck to ease.

Hombre cansado, I brush care
from your forehead, gather you
to me as earth accepts rain
and drowns, Amante, to grow anew
in cross currents of bliss and need.

I do this mi dulce not having
known the crash and clatter
of memory drawn in scars
that make you stretch
in predawn prayer for mercy.
Time bends men and even
the strongest trees.

Caídas de la noche.

I am your empath when every muscle
cries to heaven and we share ache,
yoked in burden and refuge,
inhaling promise, exhaling yesterday.

Sueño querido.