July

july
is a small word
but it contains orange-sateen skies and
the heated way your tongue traces my earlobe;
smoldering evenings are on the rise like inflation,
and i find that i cannot get enough of you
even as you fill me with
hot hot ember-breath-youareawildfireonmyskin and
Dear God,
let my bones be flint and marrow-matches.

[have i told you, we could burn to death
by the way you look at me?]

i crave your legs wrapped tight around me
like a scorching security blanket--
we could hotbox in our own love
and it would not be a stretch,
and i want you to hear that
no words sound ugly when you say them.

[the only words i want to say are
i love you, i love you, i love you]

i love you and it seeps from my pores
and fills my lungs from ground zero
and pounds through my head like drums,
my skin rises to yours as if called
and i whisper your name overandoverandover--

july is such a small word
to contain the two of us.