at your touch begins the thrumming—
a trapped chord, hungry and cauterizing. i hang
your touch on bone like damp shirts
in summer sun, count
the chorus of each putrid lung.
did you know, fear returns like the refrain
of a bad villanelle. a different face
but i can taste the pattern
in the pout of your lip, hear the ugly refrain
dragging up my jaw. it’s an animal
fear, losing you, like a ritardando
gone wrong, and i inhale 
down your skin, grating like a misplaced sharp
and i can’t stop, i can’t stop