Choking on the possibililty

[geojulie]

Heat and saturation
stains the air between us.
I learned to crave it for another
but I’m glad I found you
in the break of madness.
Two geographic transplants-
but who in the world isn’t?

I sat across the room
watching your eyes and your hands
strum the strings of a guitar,
playing flamenco like I’ve never heard it played.
And I know it will be over soon
so I keep resetting my thoughts.

Incense perfumed
your breath on my thigh,
your tongue speaking melodies.
Making love isn’t something I’ve known
but you feel right,
like it’s something you want
me to feel.

The sun set on the day;
a clear night coaxed the moon.
You coaxed me, too,
under a banyan tree.
I gave in and swallowed the city lights,
praising your gods. And who knew
blood runs through my heart?

Translate my words
Into another language that I cannot speak.
Do I dare hope I will speak it, too?
Or keep resetting my thoughts
so the next heart transplant
is easier when all things break
and the blood drains away again?