An Intimate Dialogue
Can words be meaningless?
And when does thinking and speculating end
assertion begin?
Look at your hands
it’s in your body,
in the way you walk
the way you smile
the way you think
take a deep breath
the words will come.
Does intimacy occur without sex?
Of course
How?
I know about that place of getting close
face to face where I can
feel & smell the breath
see the tiniest hairs on the stillest arm
climb inside another’s rhythm
have no other thought than of that tender moment
& my pleasure is the pleasure of another.
You don’t have intimate friends? You don’t follow the breath of
your girlfriends, never letting your thoughts wander, your eyes dart?
You don’t watch her closely when she talks, noticing the newest gray hair,
the slightest wrinkle in her cheek? You don’t hear the tiniest crack
in her voice, cackle in her smile?
Is your writing always so erotic?
Only when I get close to the bone
where passion rides in a simple conversation.
And talk becomes sex?
when your words
pause.
5 thoughts on "An Intimate Dialogue"
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Whoa, I really like this! Your assertions and questions really work for me. This poem doesn’t over promise! You take me straight intimacy with its many layers
Delicious. I love the way you link thinking and sex—they are all but the same thing for you. Your erogenous zone is in your head.
I love the way this forces the idea of noticing the tiny things that we so often miss
love the intimacy of noticing the tiny details
great last line, though I wonder if the sex wasn’t in the words.