Dance Partner

In these close quarters,
the altered rhythms
of our breath,
the strong mix of sweat
and saliva smells like-

the sick-sweet ache
of thorough thrill;

an uncaged thing
its new, fuller range
delightfully discovering.

The cry that quakes
and quenches our
thirsty throats
sounds like-

old pain exorcised;

wrongs and wounds annealed;

new joy tapped
while time writhes,
warping, bending-

union.