Intimate Wilderness

If there is less than misunderstood
let it come to my lips, quickly
before I back out of the situation
with my hands little more than
instruments at the service of your mercy.
Your eyes are the only thing lost
on both sides of the equation.
If I were a mathematician
I’d take a different hobby for starters.
Not to say you couldn’t count
the number of times our eyes met
with one blink that might have been
a twitch. Anyway you come to mind
like flesh, or a foregrounding in intimate
wilderness, a distilled echo
patiently repeating the heart
at the moment it first encountered you.
But shut up and kiss me you say,
with my tongue in your mouth
so close I can barely get the words out.