within an inch of whisper

the heart kinetic
caressing the cough
that skins your cigarette
the air around your whiskey
and words you will not find

you arm wrestle me for the pen
and I love you most then

you ask of often
I answer as always

insisting that to pull the thing far enough out
to place in front of the face to your phrasing
would obliterate its proper context, and would
set the pitch of sentence to vacuum absent light

the deepest belly in you laughs, toasting
to the sacred space, between the iron
that escapes from a scraped knee
and the air that anticipates how it tastes

you answer my love as always