Before the voice, a breath—
warm upon the skin,
from someone leaning near.

To linger in that nearness,
softness, gathered close:
gauze folded over gauze,
nacreous cells swelling layer on layer
into a chamber,
till the pulse within settled into the weave.

Held, nearness slips.
The layers drew apart,
and into the spaces between came air, came bodies;
out of the room unfurled a path:
at the shoulder, a susurrus
through the gauze, a tremulous stir
from afar, colors meeting—
up close, slipping apart,
across organza, letters surfacing,
a palimpsest of touches,
faded, recalled, stirred anew,
time, layer on layer, settling into the body—
almost, and still.