Unison

Who invented this?
This meshing of flesh,
this tangling of tongues,
waking and embracing
setting flame to skin,
dancing vitriolic on torsos,
a strange war dance
all of our own.

Who would not envy this?
This state in which
we are lost in each
other’s countries, tracing
the maps of each other’s
skin, with the compass
of fingers pointing the
direction of pleasure.

And which direction now?
Will we drift in this
oblivion forever, hanging
in sustained bliss? The
blistering hours we spend
tangled in each other,
connected together
like pieces of a jigsaw.

How did it happen?
When all the ruined hours
from past battles,
the bombed-out streets
of your brain draining
your self-worth, as hurt
seeped into every pore
and found you folded.

But sure enough, this
vision has saved you both,
has healed every hurt
and reconstructed every
street, so that you can
function once more, this
revitalising stream,
quenching every ounce of pain.