Broken Clockwork

The place I return to 

Breezing across a lover's staff,  

There mingles a clicking tongue,  

Rocking mouth, and 

A curved canopy that 

Beckons South.  

(The place I long for)  

My fingertips follow my hands to follow the swoon 

And to touch, beyond reach, 

that lure of a wilting wall 

Knowing that  

Minute by minute 

I close closer and closer to him.  

When dark collapses unto day  

Hear me: ever so more  

Profoundly 

Calling my lover to me 

With a steady rainfall-heart and 

Say, a dozen kisses 

never satisfy 

Any more  

than the dozen passes made in a day 

Across my lover's stave 

And yet never to touch.