touchdown

on every square millimetre
of your surface
your toes depended

a wild family
of moons
soles scrawled

with messages about limits
of divorce
and divinity

and up your legs which are more memories
than travelling companions
being

responsible, their beauty catalogued,
their genius to
walk, but now,

a pink brown lack
of discernment, then blandness, and forward to
glistening disorder

all these hectares and I have not yet found
a blemish
wild I cried,

kissing your absences
and profoundly
asleep

to everything
on the other side
of your skin