Rattling the Pain

With head raised in hand cupped,

I feel for you,

so fixed and firm,

glimpsed from aside,

your contoured curve,

black hair curl, soft, down, 

locked eyes and back arched,

a fern frond unfurled, a pollen ball of molten lava flung,

gone, now not, from where I do not know, who does,

a lip twitch and arched away,

to ache for us,

so out of reach,

a memory, a fissure,

working its way,

night after night,

the wind rattling the pain.