I want to know you—a tongue
dancing in a smoky room.

I want to taste you as a fruit,
cut and weeping.

I want to meet you underwater,
with your weird heat and gentle lament.

I want to fill each gap
between your toes,

I want to wrap you in blue silk—
a flower in the bough of a tree.

I want to watch you undress,
orchestrate deaths.

I want to see you like a glass question—
always from a different angle.

I want to know you
as a myth without the writing.

I want to feel you as the letter O,
between my lips as it’s hatching,

I want to hear you
as the sea at dawn,

I want to know you before
you’re found and opened

with a careful knife
to find the cause was sorrow.