|
The Right Angle |
Down on my knees to please
the very mine of you
and run my hand over terrains of skin, up & down.
Circle sloping, making triangles & squares
& top me, bottom you,
other points ringing out.
Soft earthquakes,
sum of all sides, bisecting you, lifting you up,
turning you over, proving new theories;
like light only suggests where my tongue goes,
like the bed challenges my pushing with an atom, positive or negative,
like for every you there is an equal & opposite me.
As my body tells your body
a proof about why we're together,
why forever is finite & always is infinite,
and 'A' plus 'B' ,
well -- letters become numbers, honey.
Numbers become history
as you move right up into me,
soothe me with stories of formulas I'll solve,
puzzles I'll trace over your body connecting
your leg to your thigh,
satisfying Big Bang theory.
That the universe started with a sigh
or just a breath caught in an angle of intensity,
line from eye - to chest - to center - to me.
At ninety degrees, perpendicular me to you,
undulations as modulations, sound waves reverberating,
reversing you subtly under me.
Hypotheses of time,
space & the elements,
you bond to me.
Predictions of outcomes, educated guesses,
I suppose
you are flesh & bones,
outlaw propositions
& I make laws inside you.
Complementary feeling when we end
to reveal ourselves.
We cause other effects together,
roll other motions
& create other gravities.
copyright 2004
Adam
Bresson |
