How one glance presses to glistening
surface with Gestapo relentlessness what cold
sweat two olive-kissed hands handle with
circumspect comfort, bruised flesh scented of fresh-cut
mango, its withering wealth no less
palpable, wet eyes desirous of what touch men
who break earth would die for if they let
it grow, this is the mysterious, murder-us
mercy of suppressed love, this unknown
pleasure killing us with one thought industry’s wheels
crush as it struggles to replicate
what equations cannot replace, faith failing to
formulate what purest truth two stri(p)ped
tigers cannot face, this quiet ferocity
of feeling flame itself swallows to
annihilate, this s(h)ame(d) curiosity we
two lonely hunters of each other
pursue without puncture, fantasy our embrace
fate manifests only if we take
from our prison of a garden this one chance to
make possible our escape, to break
this cycle and face our hearts’ denigrators with
renewed strength, no longer vilified
for shaking from clay these bonds denying us peace.