Mass

With all our limbs in limbo,
your feet next to my neat pairing of hands,
breath on breath, scapula on stomach,
sing me the birth song of your
every miraculous turning over in the night,
my arms flying buttresses
to your rib cage cathedral,
your rose window-wide eyes,
and your stone shoulders.
You have convinced me that
we were all immaculately conceived
in the tiny cupped hands
of just one corner of the universe.
This is not a dream
but a secret the universe whispered to me
through stars and the perfection of your shins;
in this hall of your body let us make new sins
because all those old giants have paled,
and we are new and bright and
oh so ready to make fresh transgressions
with this flesh on flesh test of humanity,
so come with me, love.

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