The body is a forest.
Bones are trees of flesh.
We are mystery because we
cannot translate love, though
our bodies remember it
before it is known. When it becomes known
its light makes it forgotten,
because it is made new.
This occurs because
a body loves,
but the body is not love.
It is the way to love.
A body is only animal.
Love is only human.
God never exists because
He is the God of decomposition,
shedding flesh and seasons.
Bodiless, She never loves.
Boneless, it never stumbles,
or leaps; it never touches a woman’s hair,
which with certainty is a revelation of wind
through branches.
We kiss because we are rivers.
We embrace because we are oceans.
We touch because we love the rain.