Distant Relations

If only I could hold
your nakedness inside
without the shivering
or at least go secretly
to make my offering.

By such heresy
a priest-hole is dug
in the basement
of this atheists soul.

Looking up
I see merely
heavens black
pitched mass.

Only by your face
smoking in the dark
can I see the point
of so much light.

You drag nicotine
from your cigarette
and a star supernova's
between your fingertips.

Slowly the beg of my body
hold out it's desperate hand,
once more a cold nuzzled back
deals my ache a busting ace.

I take the blow of passive breath
it warms my lungs with stale smoke,
outside a moon cuts a cloud in half
and dreams part either side of space.



John G.Hall(C)2005