One day soon, we’ll dance too close, let the sweat drip on my tongue.
Soon, we’ll arrive. Shiny, not to cover what we are, but to scream what we cannot in the daylight.
One day, not long from now, Tuesday Sabbath will set every six days again.
Asking me how I am will spark my eyes—ecstasy in your presence only. Answering with my hips, and my mouth open wide but not for words.
Tongue tired of reports, tied up with yours, remembering the steps like a song from teenage cars in the suburbs, the pit of me lurching to a start from so much stillness.
The night is long and immovable under skies at home but my red heart waves a flag begging to feel yours thumping next to mine in time with the song we both love.
We’re no stranger to prayers.
Our force holds us all in pause.
Your face is clear on my mind.
The space is more than I ever wanted, but sure as gold was once dirt, the room will sweat again with our animated corpses, swaying in the dark, not yet dead.
But for now, I’ll sit patient and sturdy with desire and the knowledge that soon will feel better then.