There is something of younot meant to be understood,
but enveloped and experienced.
You broke the pane, and I came through.
I am that place in your belly that smolders, hot as ash and rises in a spiral
to the heart place.
It is here we send smoke signals to that brain of yours,
and torch the brick house of your ideology
That's when you are mine.
The sinewy flex of your form gone soft
The arc of your breath in the hollow
All that is dark and light
and collapse into the still-point bright.
and a name is given for this grace unknown
that makes it taste sweeter on our tongues,
but it is that. Only that…
© 2012 Sunni Chapman