A Shameful Imagination

Sunshine overwhelms my tired eyes,

but glimmers across your skin,

smoothing over the humanly

bumps specking lean muscles

beautifully encompassing you—

and your scent that I miraculously

taste. Feeling your ridges

under my tongue, you are sweet

like an apple on the tree

of my childhood. Fruit tainted

by worms taking advantage. Another

opportunity ruined before ripening.

Just one taste

Forbidden by my own rules

from long ago. I will

never really know

your fragrances.

But your eyes could be opened:

Sleeping in on a Saturday just because

we both want that and walking

in the fields that sustain us finding

the river streaming through the trees and flowing

through our dreams

quenching our thirst for something greater

we attend Sunday morning church

and drink coffee and eat toast

at our kitchen table

sunlight shining gently on your pale face

lighting up your eyes like it does

when we walk our dogs we adopted

from the streets surrounding our first home before

we could finally afford the farm

that feeds our creation

the children who have grown

into young adults like we are

now sitting beside one another:

Man and Woman, unashamed.

I look at your handsome face, disastrously

glancing at me throughout

class. Our future together

already fading, and which

you can never know of is

the incomprehensible tenderness I have for you

are good and pure, and divine

is life.