I hold you in my arms
the heat of your body
permeates my clothes
fissures you to me, joining us
like melted wax candles, I strike
a match to find you late at night
in my dream, under the quilted blankets
of my desire, I seek you in the context
of contact, of wet kisses pressed against
the drought so dry in our desire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem