moments

morning

clutching at my scarf
around my bare neck
I walked through the 
6 o clock softness

I could see the morning
sharpening around me

angles, acuity, awakening

afternoon

nature, thick and intricate
folds and unfolds around me
in a bower
I think about
this woman
how her rosy cheeks
lay me bare
my rib cage aches and
expands
with warm desire
and the trees on the terrace
seem to grip at my skin

evening

rain drips sporadically
thunderously loud
wrenching sleep from my fitful mind
and heavy body
promising a weary day tomorrow

I am tired
I creak and groan
I need something fresh
it is slow, subtle torture