Natural Disaster

I bloom
beneath the warmth
of your hands
like magnolias
in this august heat:
full-bodied, fragrant
and bursting.

The sun slants
in sideways
and lights your eyes
up like melting ice –
burning and
brilliant;
a flame that eats
the oxygen straight
from my lungs.

And there was the
center of the galaxy
orbiting your
irises,
pulling me in
on myself
like gravity.

Your lips move
deliberately;
two rounded halves
of a ripened peach.
They bleed truth
and the idea
that kissing them
just might
paralyze me.

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