John A. Nieves Two Years A go This Morning You were always feeding me glass apples and speaking in tongues, kissing places I didn't have names for, running your fingers over me, tracing me like a chalk line on the street. Yo u'd press your silence against melet your toes brush the bottom of my feet, write poems on my chest with your cheek. We'd c reep like soft shadows toward dawn. But when day finally came, we were sunflowers in violent light chasing different suns.
116
FUGUE..-3 1