Closed Eyes

He called her nose a peak.
She never knew
amorous nausea
until
his finger traced
along her bridge.
Instead of falling
in the water,
his fingers kept their balance.
Distantly, she heard him
discovering
a valley.
He rose out of her
be-freckled depths
to carve a gentle slopping plateau
along her forehead.
There,
his finger pressed
against her mind,
and there the imprint
will stay
until the sun no longer wakes.
Even in the darkness,
she remembers.