I want to *kiss* to *kiss* to *kiss*
and writhe with passion in your embrace
to *kiss* yet more and pull the cover of bliss
eclipsingly over the cuddle of us

so that we may incandesce imperiously in our own tenderness

yet appear as no more than a wee far-cast twinkle

to any gimlet searcher seeking out bursting novas

as a divine sign of redemptive brilliance.

I want to pulsate as a delving pulsar would

Into your invoking, involving, inescapable imminence

As if you were the black hole at the center of my universe

(even though your are the very light that illuminates angels’ wings)