The last time we built a communion with the softest part of our bodies,

the recipe for putting each other’s bodies to warm were our breaths.

We hung every disruption at threshold of our chasm, & embraced

the echoes of our intimacy. I lit your larynx on fire with inconsistent syllables

with my thrust, pulled a fistful of your hair & planted my lips on your neck.

& it sprouted as a deep breath from your mouth. I measured the width

of my palm with the hourglass of your body—trickling my fingers down

the god your body withholds. The other day, I was a lover in a shining

armour riding my horse into the empire of your body, chanting

each other’s names in a slow rhythmic tempo. The unpunctuated frenzy

we engaged sent our carnal appetite to exhaustion, & we laid on the bed

like two lovers cuddling on the moon tracing a map on each other’s back.