Images of those nights flash through my mind,
Like hand-colored frames of a silent movie.
Hands, an ear, watercolor eyes.
Parts unmentionable.
Breathless kisses, fluid movement,
Hand full of hair snatched in anger.
White falcon, starbursts, silver bullets.
Fine-boned fingers brandishing a tiny cross.
I wonder if the shape of my ears
Remains in your memory.
