Places of Love – rice field

The rice field listens to the
song of our breathing,
heavy gasps weighed down
in wetness of desire.

When he traces the snail
of his finger on my back
an arc of bird soars in the sky:
a jade light in deep blue.

His palm weaves a gossamer
shawl of pallor to cover my skin
that he then unveils gently till
the night as thick silk pours

around us. The birds settle
in hush and darkness whispers
through gentle breeze
between the angles of our bodies.

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