lovers of honey in the mouth and fire let us be, of secret phrases and between the lines

to the spicy flamenco, to the naughty hide-and-seek

to the taste of apples, to the tranquility of the night, of the fleeting afternoon

in the half light of lust and the sweet pulp of sympathy

lovers, chasing us, ignoring us from public discourse

waiting for the cave, for the wet rose, for the open petals

shooting indiscreet glances, and cravings at the touch of hands

  in the depths of sweat, without shame, with the adventure of tongues

to the warm skin, to the hot chill, to the sonorous silence of fatal attraction

garden, hot sun, soft ground, fight, drops

and ecstasy

to love and resistance

to the messy hair, to the vigor of a hug

to the subtlety of a sigh