Human Landscapes

I want to make a home in the curve between your shoulder blades.
The dip, the hollow, the tangible nothingness
where you would have worn your wings.
But I suppose I might settle for the arch of your foot
then my spine could support it like the sky below a rainbow
and just think of how long you could walk with me beneath your sole.
And if all else failed I'd make do with
the velveteen cove behind your earlobes.
Surely I could survive seven seasons with nothing but a
wayward curl cocooned around my extremities.

Alas, I have to admit that the landscapes of our bodies

are far more mysterious than ocean floors or hearts

of volcanoes, and are therefore

not fit for human inhabitants.