The Lovers II

By Taly Nudelman

find the coarse folds
under my tear ducts
and follow them down my cheek,
until
the linen grows sparse and weak
until
the white fades into your fingertips
and you hold lone threads;

grasp where the fabric of my skin
folds into yours and
lose your mind in the wrinkled abyss
between
our inward looking eyes;

do not be devastated by our affliction.
glance into the distance
and conjure a sunset or the scent
of sweet carnations that
have long ago disappeared
from my wrist;

look me in the eyes;
tell me you see me
and I’ll revel in your white-linen words.