Adam

If my desire is a dawning, 

then you are my morning glory,

aflame with life and dreams

and little deaths.

Your body is a home-coming;

certain and secure.

Every mound is a perfect memory,

familiar like a hunger.

The garden of your chest,

the cherries that ripen upon them,

the feast of your musk—

they quell my famine.

Your kiss is my unparching,

my living water, resurrection;

in your mouth, I am young again, 

a fount in overflow.

Your back stretches out before me

like a pilgrimage,

full of wonder and holy

with lust:

A promised land

rising and falling into soft places

that beckon me, again, to come

home.