You speak love in a different language—
smothering guttural banging of bodies.

Such a ragged fragment.

Melding of aura, melding of soul—
non-contextual in that dialect.

Tenderness, the touch, the soft moan in the nape—
simple things people do for each other.

All these are not, just not, in the vocabulary.

You say, in the act, time cracks and we crawl through
to an ecstatic dimension.

How nice this must be for you.