Heat shakes the cup shakes the skin of my hand
along your neck between your thighs against
the small of your back;
lips never touch but burn when
my molecules shake up yours.
They say that atoms never truly meet
but if they could
mine would nestle inside your particles
break through negative fields and brush against
protons and neutrons to create something
entirely new.
Compound molecules.
One need not shake
to move the other.
Breast to breast.
Lip to lip.
Atom to atom
and below that, even:
we will touch where only strings
dare go.
We are fused as the universe before the first bang. Another, and
bits of You/Me go flying into the wind.
New galaxies spring forth.
You and I are the heart of them all.