As she walks in the room, the movement of her thighs

As she walks in the room, the movement of her thighs
is met by the air I am vibrating with my tongue

in a wordless song. Before her I am a laugh
or a cry without sense, I am bound to her because

of synastries and alchemies. She is the rough
and disciplined judge I surrender to without recourse

to prayer nor fantasy. My self pierces through
the soft folds of her body, divides her flesh

and exercises muscle. I'm moving my weight
as an undulating music in her startling body

and she's speaking nonsense. There's never enough
of her to receive me, I no longer have a thought

when I find myself between her moving thighs.