Cold stage.
                          Black box.

Marley taped in panels, rolled out left to right.
An expanse of horizonal possibility.

The Absence Of on full display, set against:
                          One Body.

Down center spot.
Up softly. Like an eye that opens after sleep.
The blur of sticky breath &

Nothing on between these sheets.
Ivory steeped satin across cool nipples;
A dropped cloth to reveal
A chiseled statue.


Ribs flare, chest rises, downy hairs cascade
On two arms tuned to the mere pin prick of movement.
So subtle to be revelatory.
A cut through of air in condensation around

This hot-blooded form.
We’re at a meeting of fronts. All this rumble & flash.
Less than minutes,
Less than miles away from freedom. And you:

Turn hand to palm.
A slender finger to cheekbone.
The concavity of shoulders in defense of folding this seam the other way.
The torque of:
                          The collarbones.
                          The heart space.
                          A softening.

The electricity rising from somewhere beneath
That Marley-covered floor.

Trust is in the simplicity:
                          A palm.
                          A cheekbone.
                          A finger.
                          A softening.

Tension in the lack of affectation:
                          A cool drink because you’re thirsty.
                          A cleared throat because you’re thirsty.
                          A devouring of space because you’re thirsty.                        
                          A voicing of Yes because you’re thirsty.

From my position – relative to yours – I am set, simply, in relief:
       One Clear Cord
                          Over & Over again.

& it is because of you that I am now:
                          Pulled taut