In the dimples
of your lower back
where I put my thumbs,
  my tongue,
where your skin gathers
and separates and allows
a superficial union of
our bodies, albeit small,
discreet and undervalued
next to those other places,
those substantial places
where two become just
the one by means of
divine multiplication,
a small bead of sweat grows
product of the sweat
I pour into you
and I catch a glimpse of us
reflected therein.

I taste the blue arteries (veins??)
  bud by bud
as neon borealis against the pink
the pink against the translucent white
I taste the hairs
   I taste the pores
      I taste the cells
         I taste the silence-
and where there used to be silence,
the breathing- the in and out
of life, mine and yours-
and where the vocal chords
used to be open, bypassed in breath,
their vibrations.
            I taste the decibels
I feel them in my bones
my digits, my limbs, my core
I feel them in your bones,
your muscles, your organs, your glands.

In the dimples
of your cheeks
that appear and disappear
where I put my lips,
  my own dimples,
where the heat radiates
from within
this fire combination of
my body and yours
originating from those other places
those substantial places
where you come together and
I come alive in the movement,
there begins some type of ending
that coats each nerve in wax
  and pins
to isolate and test,
throwing out the bad ones
and reinforcing the good.