Poem in a Frame
As we disperse our concerns
We search for each other best
As our bodies converge, we live on the verge
On the verge of another verse as our bodies converse
You and I are a poem
A poem in a frame
The frame is the bed where our bodies converse
As our bodies converse, our verses come to life
Metaphorically speaking, they come to life
Allegorically obscene, they come to life
Sinfully lustful, creatively repetitive
Anaphora after anaphora
We swear, we hastily promise, we rhythmically caress
We enter this task as if we are challenging each other
Who is who, and who is better in the act of love
Struggling to keep the time, struggling to keep the rhyme
Naked, they do it; it’s what our sexes do
Naked, they do it; it’s what our verses do
Our verses cling to our skin as our kisses do
A framed poem is what we are
You and I, oh my dove
You and I rhymes with love
Yet imagination takes practice; this is clear
We’re groping sensitive skin here, oh dear
While love makes us, while we make love
Passion surges as my stanzas surge
As your body opens to receive
Like a wishing well, the coins of my urge
As your body singe while mine sings
And so does your heart, and so does my soul
Melting like incandescent coal
Under the naked truth
There lies the scandalous cacophony of our sexes
Under the naked truth
You and I are a poem
A poem in a frame
A poem for your body, a poem for my soul
Singing in your body when your body blooms
Crying in my soul when my soul glooms.
