On Making Love
The waves of ions, water, wind, salt, and sand,
That come with the body, that come with the mind,
Than come with the joining, and clasp within the ring -
Waves of the matters that are not mine to sling,
Of walls and despairs and tremors in the Nether -
That comes with the opening up to another -
That comes with the price of feeling too much,
And breaking my rules, and end overtouched,
With my wholeness screaming, and tearing in shatters,
Like none else exists, is here, or matters.
It’s gritty like life, and it hurts like dying.
It’s hard to survive, but futile to deny it.
AP
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