i dreamed of men with gentle hands
eloquent with tenderness
fingers that brushed along a cheek
that outlined open lips in lover's braille
hands that sculpted sweetness from sullen flesh
that traced breast and ignited hips
opening, kneading
flesh becomes bread in the heat of those hands
braided and rising
but gray dawn was straining peaches
and i awoke to your laughter
tasting like burnt sunshine, cactus, and the worm