speaking in morning tongue

so drenched
dripping
in
you
though mouths are dry
and lips fear
to part

we have slept
on consistent thread
before midnight italics
straightened
and shifted upright
by morning

they’re going away

the marks
you made
the skin you chewed,
tried to swallow,
but refrained
because you said you couldn’t
indulge in just one bite

we know many languages

talking in pulsing palms
clenching skin creases
that form rivers
over veins
and six other layers
of skin

sleeping again
on nail beds
draped in pillows and a duvet
that holds your scent
and wears it
proudly
like a favorite perfume

it is no small task
peeling soaking wet fabric
from adhesive skin silhouettes
but the bath is draining
 leaving porcelain ringlets
where bathwater stood stagnantly
and bodies sitting where they’ve soaked
naked as they came

austin iovanna