Selbstverbannung Poem by John Weber

Whispering caresses testify
      under duress with somber
      adoration.

How many sonnets have I
      forgotten
      while tracing the
      contours of your shape?

Your slick fragrance disarms my
      resolve; I yearn to
      bottle such essence

if only to keep a suggestion of
      us in the face of certain
      obliteration.

For once the skitter and
      the titter consume with
      fangs of speculation, we
      shall doubt

what we’ve begun
      in earnest
      under the moon,

the trust of synchronized
      pulses seeking
      harmony,

and the explosive
      thrill of shared
      desire

until nothing
      remains.