Intimacy!

Intimacy! Such an impropriety!

Such a rude incursion of the yearning

for satiety in body and in soul.

Sometimes kissing is the goal --

hovering above like Death’s sweet dove,

ready to bestow a final blessing.

Sometimes when you’re dressing

ineluctably in front of me I can’t

not reach out to restrain your hand.

Intimacy! Illicitly imported and exported

in the heart. Dangerously

contraband. Inevitably art.

.