in our nakedness it is all too clear that this
(skin that has never been kissed, your lips
against the hull of my hips) is the game that
i never thought i’d have the chance to start:
that wild stuff, that ‘i need you’ and stuff.
from you, enough is always more than enough
pulling and pushing with the currents of the ocean
(nights of touching and knowing, your arm’s the
riptide hugging my succulent side) finally we breathe:
that alembic stuff, that ‘i love you’ and stuff.