Naked

Naked, I understand you. Silently
I read your mind with my fingertips, as if
Braille was my first language,
my mother tongue, tracing the filigree
of ridges below your testes like a map.

When your lips close around my nipples, you
sprinkle stardust that sparkles, crackles and pops
with the heat of our fire, the flames a
highway to the moon, or to my heart,
to planets beyond Jupiter, beyond Neptune,
beyond imagination, yet to be discovered.

There's no sweet or bitter on my tongue,
only the effervescent need to feel,
to suckle, to burrow.

When my skin slides against yours,
your peaks nestle in my valleys,
explore my nooks and crannies.
You rustle them up, awaken them
to all possibilities...

At last our juncture excludes even a single
ray of moonlight between us.

The little that is left to say hovers
weightier than the heaviest atoms, more
radioactive than plutonium, decaying
not with a Big Bang but
with the loudest silence I'll ever hear,
resorbed into the black hole of real life.

Naked, I may even understand myself.