A battery tongue to lead
into the energy of our conversations
Leaving that imprint of our first outgoing
experiences: Date stamped
Feelings lost in a brown haze of your eyes;
your skin tone made of mother earth, even
as your cry in pain, it turns into mud

All kisses find their perpetual motion
their thoughts of one’s cocooned emotions—
ear curls, your breath coils, turned into hot coals
a lip bite under the tightening grip of second skin

A riding body on a trip to fill itself
as a heartbeat starts with a hum: drummed in
the middle of a hall; through its walls, sound vibrates
Everything else gyrates— as the hammer weighs down
an anvil: to love her in a set picture, polaroid sometimes
I love her still