You touched me
and poetry became 
obsolete
now the poetry
is in your hands
and fingers
and lips
and teeth
when you move
I lose concentration
I wander
through words
across phrases
until I am home
between your skin
and without ink
 

Pearls

There were pearls
between my breasts.
They hung like cord
and dangled like cool silver
upon my belly.
You moved them
to my cheek
to make way for you.