Quarantine
3 AM again—
do you miss touch yet?
Or are you so far past that memory you don’t care
if you ever feel another’s skin again?
…a new hand sliding up your thigh…
Are you now numb to the sense of goosebumps
awakening delight in the center of your pelvis,
delight that spreads so fast —
a shock wave from some chakric detonation
spilling out your sacrum
racing up your spine, lightning from a lake
savaging your heart into sudden quickness
illuminating your retinas with flashing
visions of heat
scenes of limbs writhing
in union, of genital rapture,
of mouth filled with other’s mouth
tongue laced with other’s sweat and
other’s dilated pupils begging
you, drawing you down past their event horizon
blanketing your savage lust in a warm dark
embrace of acceptance that you are
animal and need —
of post-coital cuddles and evaporating puddles
where you lay like islands intertwined
panting slowed to heavy sighs, assured
you are not alone-
you are with
and wanted
and given to
