the inches of the dark*

blind,
you feel your way
across the planet;
inch over
inch;
pore
over pore ...

blind,
you find yourself
at the bottom of a hill,
or caught up on a cloud;
you look up
and you look down;
but never lose
your place ...

blind,
you crawl and caress
the ground beneath you,
looking for the edge;
counting the curvature;
mapping out the mountains
and the cutouts of the sky ...

blind,
you open your eyes
and pull yourself away,
away from the darkness;
off from the ground;
you pull yourself away
and she's still there,
in front of you,
lips slightly parted,
dragging in a breath;
the features of her face
fall away from you
like the planet ...

you close your eyes

blind,
so that the world
wraps into black
and into a tiny ball;
blind,
so that you feel the universe
over the surface
of your skin;
blind,
so that nothing matters
but the inches in front
of you





















* The Kiss, sculpted by Auguste Rodin.