Rites

There is a wild
Elation of skin and
Body called love,
A joy of breasts
Cupped up toward
Hands and lips and
Science cannot
Speak the rest,
This part of you,
Flesh and bone,
Pulse now wholly
A part of me as
We are joined
With what is totally
Never our own yet
So much, so many
Breathless,
Beyond us both, all
Spring, earth, sky,
The blue and star                                                                                                            Celebrate desire.