An Education

I want to learn the language your body speaks,

Whispered by your hips as you move,

Decode the ciphers between your sighs.

I have learned the angle of your slouch,

The spread of your fingers

And the coil of your curls.

There is a science to you I have not yet learned.

I have learned the contours of your face

The locations of your moles

The longitude and latitude of your dimples

The length and breadth of your smile

Better than I ever learned geography.

Maybe I’d map those contours of your face

(Which I’ve already committed to memory)

but I can’t.

To recreate the brownness of your skin
is more motivation than three years of art

Ever were.

Writing commits you to memory.