A Poem A Day, Poem #23

there is a touch somewhere i have not found,
a finger or a hand so plush and perfect that
silence knows no sound could interrupt its
rested, rhythmless unsong,
                                               but it is a hiding
touch, a place away, dreaming in the dark places
we don't look when we kiss, waiting in the
softest regions of the clouds we can't reach
when we slide our waters into lovemaking

and those creatures that climb the mind,
the muses that pull the flutes from the
worlds you make in me when we search
for the secrets that sex whispers when the
steam rises toward all the unknown stories we tell
in our future sleep, there is still a touch holding
some unspeakable sweetness for me to taste in
the shadow of a clumsy cup of moon