Doorways
The shoulder of the carpenter expands
As shaved aroma curls from wood–and I
Recall your hair. Pulsed tendons in his hands
Prevail against the door he shapes and ply
His tool; he planes by muscle and blue vein,
Marks smooth by harsh caress–I recall
Your fingers coaxing hardness next to pain
Beneath my skin. His biceps rise and fall
While lifting up the door to test it out–
And I remember how your heart arched up
Against our ribs, its blood-gorged valves without
The vain constrictions of the coy. I cup
These memories in my hands. I shoulder through
A daydream door and close my arms round you.