Patience

I want to make love

to a corpse, moan

in the silence of the morgue

where everything is quiet, except

for the sound of my fingers

curled around yours.

We`ll lie hand in hand

on steel guerneys, talk

about the stars, how the overhead lights

shimmer like Orion in October.

You won`t move,

even when I kiss the cold

skin beneath your ear.

I`ll tell you love is patient

wait
for your lips to form

the words I want to hear.