Sometimes- when I am

holding you, hugging

you and my

hands are rubbing smoothing

and I feel the soft

of your skin through

the thin substance of

your shirt I am

moved

beyond expression by the

knowledge that I know

just what lies

beneath your coverings.

I have touched it held

it kissed and caressed

scarred-- loved it all.

And sometimes- when I am

Thinking

these things I am reminded

how very corporal

these beings are, enclosed in flesh—

through flesh must touch

and must connect, because there is

no other way.

And sometimes- I know how good

A thing it is because

sometimes- when I am

holding you, hugging

you or burying my face

in your chest or tracing

the contour of your rib

across or kissing

you softly behind your ear or even

sometimes- when I am

just laying with you breathing

you sensing so close

it seems to me

that were my body not limited by its physical constraints

and I were wind, or fire, or just

a thought—

I would throw myself into you

And die.