Eva

 
Not going to touch
even an inch of your skin tonight,
as if it'd be a sin,
not that that'd stop me
- but instead
inhabit seconds,
inhibit high,
stretch the idea long,
lust across the kitchen floor
beside a book about something unremarkable,
non-descript. It's a want
to make a wild human urgent,
a better,
more hungersome beast -
bed them down,
those innate senses we have been
torturously denied all week,
divine heresy -
the modern clergy take
such mediocre relief,
the beat on beat -
the 'It was fine'
so instead we edge,
that energy tussle,
the slip and flow,
blow by blow -
a prang of jealousy
that the world she holds you
beyond my prowl
and then the time
it’s too much everything
too much connection
to be so softly held
and softly denied
so there we meet
wrists against walls,
body on body,
at the sink -
redefine
what it is to show up,
dig into burrows of love,
the pouring of time,
eyes full of willing,
the desperate, pure mine,
the transcendent climb
and
when wanting has scratched our bodies
to pieces who fit
together like Sun, together like sky -
there exploding
in the back of your mind
there’ll be a ocean
full of what we consider
holy, shared solely
between you and I.
After,
I'll eat peaches,
belly full of wine.