Innervation

I sang the echo
of my art
into your ear,
and though
you were asleep,
it must
have reached you:

a rumor you
had heard before,
the loss of
secret, sacred, languid
            bliss
 
the kiss that
missed your lips,
went straight on
down into your
hips—

fascia fuses
skin to muscle,
muscle to bone;

alone
          we all come
apart.

_