The flesh rises in still early morning
like dough that wants to make bread.
And I am the one to feel it passing
through me into you rising easy
as saying I know moves quickly into
I knew it—or like after your saying I said
oh you ohing me on to say oh my sadness
so you could whisper oh my sad ass
laughing and flailing each other
with me flowing through you
and you as fluent through me
as if some sourceless air conducted
through us more wanting and having
than ever there will or can be again.
