I wished for your hand
slipped up
the back of my shirt,
its emergence in the hot of my mouth.
For the fingers closing gently
over tongue palpitations,
the constant hum like a bee.

Your smile is silence,
overriding the chatter of teeth
like cicadas, even when lips met.
You showed me quiet in the shape of arms,
traced peace over shivering eyelids.

Perhaps I can’t unlearn
the shifting silhouette,
butterfly tongue. Still with
the flutter of fingers at my back
my heart nestles like a bee,
foxgloved.