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.