Fresh
There’s a rush that swells your chest
and suddenly
you discover lust in slow motion.
My heart is ripe.
It’s ruddy
I look at you
and I atomize --
My heart puckers
and pomegranate pulp begins to drip
from my ribs.
We explore each morning
self-confessed, your words
Tango about me. It’s passion
tapping the earth -- wonderfully
exotic, curiously human
You and me.
Oh
when you feel it,
you know.