You rub skin against skin,
flesh against flesh. And you
vanish, into your own body.
Love. How often already. You look
at someone, sense the panting,
are entangled,
toiling in one single movement.
You were never closer,
never farther away.
Air is a wall, skin a barrier.
You pick up sounds from far off,
you observe the gestures closely.
The toiling clots, the panting halts.
And each goes their own way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem