a lover can’t say

A blade edge of attention

is shared between us.

It is so delicately sharp

in the traverse.

This is seen high up in the sky

of each others’ eyes

as a taut invisible rope

between us and binding.

Our faces are forward

to stare down any distant feelings.

We are a myopia

against a backdrop wideness.

We are strung up

betwixt pebbled emotions

affronting each of our gestures

of connection and conveyance

with doubts blocking us in advance.

There is an unseen ease between us.

The promise of confusion sways us.

Down turns of unforeseen needs

find resolve without attention paid.

The pit of my stomach is a molasses

of my self undeclared and unresolved.

We are blessed with blind sight

beyond this circumstance.

We are guiding an inner trust

over the unknowns from within.

Effort is as meaningful as desire.

There is a private groping

below the appearances of things.

We are in a time tube

like ‘never’ had a before.

Where we think the blade

to be straight and true

we engage in safe ground.

I secretly call you by invention.

There is the passage

of invisible hands assisting us.

You seem so willing to agree.

We are birthing something

under each other’s watchful gaze.

I watch what you do for yourself.

The two of us are compelled.

There is a helix dance upwards.

Heartbeats measure the sameness.

What shapes will our breaths express?

This oneness leaves us witless.

Movement does not translate what is.

The dance is a faint into sureness.

High in the canopy above us

destiny weathers our circumstance.

The cellular of us

is somehow letting in

and letting go.

We can’t say what pushes on us.

After making love

all of things

as ballooned captions unsaid

will have strings

and float above us

or have none

and be blown away

and become

what a lover can’t say . . .