Remembering that night makes desire
shake once again. I play it over in
my mind — the thrill of memory sets fire
to my nerves — I’m on the edge of my skin
aching to be set free with your mouth, hand,
tongue all that makes me feel that we did this
before, we’ll do this again. I expand
down your throat. When you part your grave-fresh thighs
I kiss all that I can find. Science still
can’t teach us if orgasms aren’t or are
human sublimity that we call faith.
I know that you came through the door to kill
me, I know that I love you: thief, bizarre
ghost girl, libido, love, barrow wraith.