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.