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slowly,
our fingers trace a humming of our own whispered song,
the rhythm of body on body,
inward and outward;
quietly,
our voices are released by a tracery of patterns,
the harmony of sub-vibrations and high, fluting ones
above and below;
inevitably,
our movements below are given as a wave crashes on rocks,
the timbre of the moon pulling the tides back,
cresting and withdrawing;
endlessly.
our joinings are fire and as needed as breathing,
the intensity of emotion sparking in every stroke,
giving and taking.
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- 2 years ago
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