The Heat of Fusion

The only thing that
matters is the difference 
in the degree of temperature 
between your skin and mine—

compared in tiny increments,
smaller than tear drops,
no less than the measure of
your breath on my face—
noted as if the contrast
between your wet stone

coolness and my inferno
could be caught and contained 
in the basket of our sensory memory.

And I hiss in your ear: This is what it is to live! as you drop down along the length of me, sex to sex—heart beat to heart beat…lip to ear.

The ancient, the mad and the broken 
hearted will sometime gift you this: 
Nothing else compares
to that splash of surprise when
one body sacrifices itself to the other—
burning and cooling and burning
and…forgiving, melting
into the newness of love.

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