19 August 2009

A New Kind of Kissing

has been created

has erupted

between us, she and I.

Breath is pulled away,

eyes open only to dilate again and again,

our tongues become together a fugue.

Our tongues become knots,

our knots become words,

our words become.

We come.

Our words rise above us

and bless themselves

by blessing us

by becoming.

1 comment:

  1. so pretty...and for some reason this poem reminds me of ice-box lemon pie.