Mental Frames

Poetry aside,

what would I do with your

body in the watchful night?

Now poetry resides, and I just 

might—

no, I will capture the moment.

Feel that heat rise from your 

pores, forgetting my aches

to remember yours.

Baptize my hands in your dewy 

skin,

rub the tensions out, careful of 

your tender melanin.

Mental frames of your smile 

pressed on the pillow’s down,

patiently developing memories.

—JG   ©2026