There's a vine shaped as lightning-- grapes bittersweet, supple...come to it, each an epiphany. Crushed, their red skin lets out juice, life-yield. Sealed up and put away...the body knows its blood, wine-empurpled, crimson throb. At the wrists, at chest, at temples, at neck. A synchronized pulse keeps in touch, batting wings. It is love that's prepared...to move what's been born of it. Embodied to embody--there you are my love. In shock we've been sutured One. A forever downed to earth, to imbibe drunken passion--to keep the body from falling over lest by love. No cusp more steady than two lips touching tale--an Edenic one. Yet--the more we juxtapose bodies, something ruptures--hands go wild to clutch that ******. In shame we block the parts that entered one another so freely. Shadows are broken light--love can be prodigiously cruel, but who among us has heart to expel such cruelty? Thusly...the heart drinks deep...to benumb.