Peculiar Things

Of our predicament,
our cocooned bodies-

glow

through skin

(chiffon curtains of sleep)

burns within

secretly.

I am a witness
to peculiar things;

the weight of light
caught in smoke,

the brief, hidden
guilt of rain,

the roundness
of kiss in flesh...

the awe of white roses.

Of all these things,
the greatest-

the mystery of love

dancing naked
beneath

the tangled branch
of trees.