That it tumbles
om sunscaped air: my love
extends the boundaries
of confusion.
Slants through straits
of honey fingers,
tapered hands
falls across a thigh.
And I know now never
stretch beyond the warm
repose of stones worn
concave by the sun.
*
Published in 1967 in Satyre, the student literary mag at Beloit College, which I edited along with Howard Snyder and Gay Shay.