if i slow

  slow

           slow down

if i sit or pause or breathe

           long enough

i will feel,

the weight of air on skin,

the pain of your body’s echo,

           the hunger

to remember

to slow

           slow

 

           remember  

cool desert dawn through pyramids

built by the dying

 

the sweet non-taste

of snowflakes before

your breath mixed with mine

 

the invisible pattern

your lips left on my back,

my nape, my haunch

 

if i slow

           slow

my diving beetle heart

slow hardened longing

           slow the turn

toward you

 

i may forget

i felt something

i may lose

           the urge

to learn you again

and be left

with the slow

           slow

                      slow.