My Eyes Can See for Miles


My Eyes Can See for Miles

you kissed me like
a heathen,
with your sweet and
deadly scissor-lips
whispering
sins into my ears.

our hands quickly swim and
slither over goose-
bumped skin;
the speckled surface
quivering
and
our lips
whispering
(always whispering)

i can see
how your eyes darken
like a mood-ring,
your intentions lose
all subtleties;
your obviousness
sharpens.
you say, “We dream
through our skin.
Every time you breathe out,

i breathe in.”

                – Adam Smith
                   from Words Dance 3, Winter 2003