Vesper Hymn

We are bonded,

arteries connected in a

criss-cross of capillaries.

You throb in my blood;

I pulse in yours, the steady

beat of me against you

(of you within me)

dusking a ruddy sky

with the stretching of

our veins. An evening

breeze slip-slithers across

our tangled limbs, you

trace electric fingers

through my curling hair and

I am flesh

and air

and liquid

turned to stone, arterioles and

venules flared and deepening,

suspended and eternal in those

half-perceived moments

when our hearts seize,

then tremble and rest against

each other, and then at last

decide to beat again,

connected and bonded.