Warm
There are plenty of reasons why I kiss small daffodils into your knees, choosing to ignore the bees
swarming around my eyes as my tongue connects the small freckled dots between your left thigh and
right, calling that place a home. Because what I picture anyway is you with my fingers braided into
your hair, forty-seven I love you’s before we’ve even had lunch. I keep choosing this static electricity,
this shaking white noise because I can’t stop seeing baskets of blackberries on flannel blankets,
popping the berries into your mouth, talking about the way the moon watches the sun set each
night—I see pictures of dining room tables, bread broken and dishes askew, wool-socked feet and
smiling eyes that promise to love again tomorrow and tomorrow again and tomorrow after that and
always we are there, at home, in love.
Azia Archer is the author of Atoms & Evers (dancing girl press, 2017). You can find her online at aziaarcher.com or via Twitter @aziaarcher.
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