Triptych (or, this could have been three poems, but it isn’t)

We are texting most of the evening
politics, daily events, nothing deep
and I am thinking mostly
of the feel of your leg pressed
between mine, skin to skin

I am out of town working
you text me a picture
of yourself standing near
the door of my bedroom
my heart melts

We talk on the phone at length
your family, your work,
I tell you I want to take time
three days away, or four
and I hear desire in your voice

All my lovers interweave
in one evening, in different ways
energetic patterns embellishing
my otherwise solitary life
into deeper and deeper joy

I am made new each moment

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