'history' (october 2009)

under the weight of binary code
I can feel your presence
my secret
made known
in the smell of wood smoke
stinging the wet winter air

and each portal is a portent
I can see my history briefly paused at
and reified
in the clutch of symbols and syntax

under the weight of your arms
I can feel your presence
our secret
made known
in whispers and stirrings
straining the sheets and pillows

and each sigh is a symphony
I can feel my history lifting
and evaporating
in the clutch of your hands and eyes