Poem: The Sun In Our Thighs

does
the sun
set in
the
strain
of our
thighs?

will our
skin stick
with the
wetness
of our
breath?

do we
melt
until
only
Body
in the
sweaty
womb
room?

do we
close
our eyes
our eyes
to reach
inner
to inner
cosmos?

do
we
press
and
press
and

part to
sigh