A movement of the air about her heart

A movement of the air about her heart,
the heaving tide of spirit in her breast
amused me. When the words came out her mouth
I wanted to get my hands on her thighs,
my thoughts of her alone. This maddening love
deludes me now, clouds my perceiving eyes

with her diverse forms. Her blue-grey eye
is a door and hallway to her heart
which is the seat of an effulgent love.
I put my body to hers, grab her breasts
beneath her clothes, know the contour of thigh
by passing against it my open mouth.

Singing this song, I shape and move my mouth
to then articulate a word. The eyes
of others on her, watching a dance of thighs,
a music saying what it is the heart
knows. Sometimes when I expand my breast
inhaling air to express the sure love

I have inside me, I find that this love
is mover of all things. Perhaps God's mouth
articulates the world, His changing breast
breathes life into us all. Perhaps His eyes
are our eyes, His heart is our warm heart
defining our center. Still, her thighs

stoke in me a desire; one soft thigh
receives my poetry. I am in love,
or falling at least, somewhere that my heart
has never been, somewhere that my wet mouth
has not spoken of. I open my eyes
to find above me her simple, nude breasts.

I move my tongue to find a word―her breast
pushes into me, between her thighs
I find myself. Disclosed before my eyes
is all I've ever known and ever loved,
is the only word that comes out of my mouth
when I am acting from within my heart.

O blossomed breast! O object of my love!
Move your thighs―ripe fruit―about my mouth,
give to mine eye song worthy of your heart.