Your skin touches mine
beneath blankets,
soft,
downy,
yielding.
I concentrate on that small contact,
transmitting sonnets.
And impromptu love songs.
And filaments of verse so fine,
they tracelessly suture me to you.
I intend to hang off your hip,
to accompany you
everywhere.
All day tomorrow.
Like an enormous co-joined twin
chattering through your flesh.
A sheath of sleep comes, but
the messages continue
in uninterrupted code
till morning.
You wake up so cranky.


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Copyright ©1999 by Brian Tacang. All rights reserved.
Published in Poetry the Write Way: Webstatic – First Journey (Sept. 2000)
Brian’s biography page