Half-Built Towers

So, two new poems.
The first post is very very new, this one dating back to mid-January.
They both come from polar-opposite places, so I guess it's kind of interesting to read them back-to-back.
Ah, men...

Come to my window
and just softly say my name if
you're afraid to see my face.

Send an echoe wrapped in
notebook paper,
a rapping,
a key on a ribbon in the tree
by the bedside window.

Not a trace of hair,
nor blade of grass out of place since
it all smudged off & happened.

I happen to know about
your body,
and that you must think of me in the shoddiest
of hours
(just to the left of that other woman,
and your half-built towers)

So squeeze it off
if it gives you power.
And
cower at each hour
'till your mouth disguises
sweetness with all things
lost & foul.

Tonight
just stand there
by that light,
by the window,
by the tree,
and tell me
then
that you cannot see me.

This Is My Favorite Part

This is my favorite part.
My heart trips, skipping beats like jump-rope.
I twirl your hair around my
thumb and it's new and
it's my favorite because
it never lasts.

I hate to sound gawdy and crass but
it doesn't,
and I know this well.

My favorite part starts when we're
truthing, and
like dazzling magic you
are just miraculously there.
I tell my secrets in pinky-finger doses
so's not to expose it all.
(thirsting
for the bigger story)

And you
kiss me
on the
crown of
my head
and now
it's just the best.

My favorite part is when I say my "baby don'ts"
and you say "I won't, I won't, I won't",
and your eyes shine in the light, flickering
as you dine on my lips
curling into a
smile.

I'll remember us best this way--
the way we investigate
each other.
The way I want to write this poem on and on and on
about us because it will
pass us quickly,
it will.

I smile sometimes when I think
of the way things'll sting
like a cankersore,
like a tattoo,
like burning hot sweet-tea.

You + me
will have to tiptoe back from this,
and our backs will hurt.
But we don't care, do we?
'Cause this
is
the best
part.