Material

Folds burnished in the light,

an undressing,

a different skin

drawing me in;

an entrancement.

Siren sorcery

of enchantment,

maelstrom

for my shipwreck

on the rocks

of your breathing

and the dark-light cacophony

of my addiction.

An aching sensitivity,

the desperation of proximity,

the pernicious penetration

of my being.

Is it the ebb and flow of light

that skews the eye,

the ingress of oxygen,

the rise and fall

of the body within ?

Or is it just the living

of the fabric

that grasps

the desire

for touch ?