ananda is sanskrit for bliss... (new poem)

[aithne]

ananda

It always begins
like this:

my desire, steel-edged and she
standing, uncertian of what

will happen immediately after the next
heartbeat
they always wait, and I never mind
going first
slide in under the radar
a tiny kiss on the jaw

the first lines on the map of mutual desire

teeth bared a little, a nip
to say hello to the soft soft
unexplored countries

The nervous conversations mean nothing
at times like these
there is steel and there is flesh and both will give way
in breathless
soundless wordless dreamless
yes

but right now it is the moment before
and we are both inside ourselves
and the door between us is electric
and just now

becoming visible