blessed as i am by your presence, i wonder what penance i will pay later. deep in the rapture of your mouth, crossed by the insistence of your thighs, i dread already the wrench of your eventual loss. break my heart before the plagues arrive, abandon me before armageddon; let the cost mete itself from me every day until i am sufficiently contrite. for the taste and touch of you, i would give up every sin.

it rains and i remember the scent of your hair; at night i can think only of the stars in your eyes. wet to the root with adoration for you, i grow new muscles, bud new bones. in the garden i suspect that eve is all of them, instead of either of us. you and i stand waist-deep in the mud as pillars of abstention, flirting in the sunset with history, myth, and mire.

sylvia said that the heart beats i am, but these days mine boasts you are, you are, you are.