GIFT

I. O-Miyage

I have imagined
Making love with you
So often
I am pulled ajar
When you walk towards me,
Merely,
With all your clothes on.
We have come together
Countlessly
That I can bear the distance
Set by furnitures and fabrics
Intimate friends, the air
And worst of all
The nights.
I have come to believe
In the power of these scenes
That when I touch things:
Bottles and handles,
Light switches,
And soft insides
Of fruits,
They squirm,
Perturbed
By the violence
Surging throught my thumbs.

Strange. You have never kissed me.
You brushed my elbow once
As we crossed the street
And my lower extremities
Were honey:
Every nerve, pore and cell
The havoc
Of hundreds and hundreds
Of singing, sweet bees.

-- Fatima Lim --