~for R~*

I’ve been trying to write this poem for years.

It needs to tell you that I love it when you sing
while we are kissing the humming becomes my lips.

It needs to tell you that if I woke to find the world caught
fire and I heard screaming to the north, the first thing
I would do  is hold your hand. The second is pray.

I need to tell you that I would leap  into the ravine with you.
We would hold each other’s body parts in wild clutches.
The wind pushing us apart. My hand your elbow Your ankle my ribs.
This is our love: falling. It needs that and something else.

A Portuguese word I cannot pronounce.
An east Asian character that I cannot write.

It means: your-face-is-a-flower-blooming. Or our-lips-are-atoms
smashing together. We are the sun.