Ptolemy, Copernicus, and Kepler

We move, object and orbit,
around each other
until at last,
distance traded for proximity,
gravity given over to touch.

Her skin, salt taste.
My eyes, closed to focus
on one sense at a time
because she overwhelms.

Kisses skipping across skin
flash meteor bright
tongues and fingers in elipses,
epicycles revealing deferents.

And when I do look again,

daring to use two at once
hers are closed because
my fingers are now, also, wet.

we map each other this way
but the surface we make together
is not only in two dimensions,

nor merely past and present,

because
there is no way to capture this moment
and so
we will have no choice but to repeat it.