The Wailing Wall


Courtesy: Leo Castillo 2013


All that remains
is the marble of your back
as you lie on your side asleep
like a fallen column
on bed sheets stretching out
between us
like   forty    years   of    Sinai    sand.

I read the ridge of your spine
skimming the braille of vertebrae
for something buried deep
as memory

You shift
like a fault line
under the desert landscape
and turn over on your back
offering up the
alabaster of your throat
still and silent
as a sacrifice

I bow my head
fold myself into the open angle
of your side
like an unopened letter.
Press lips to temple,
feeling the pulse of buried blood
constant and hopeful
as a Psalm

Your breath cycles
mixes with mine
hangs in the air
like the unanswered prayer
of the faithless
still waiting for restoration.

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