The dilapidated barn leans against sky,
wheat waits to catch the beams.

You chase me and we run,
land against the weak structure.
Wind pushes a sigh out of me.

Your confession of love is much louder.
Hands grope my blue skirt,
peach lace underwear moist.

The collision is unstoppable.
Your tongue melts,
reaches hidden parts I haven't yet felt burn.

We fumble, fall to the ground.
The sky burns orange, clouds evaporate,
the barn creaks, about to collapse
and just as quick the moment is gone.

That barn is torn down now.
The only evidence
my hands against skirt, going through the motions.

This poem was performed at the 2005 Chicago Poetry Fest, August 2005