How do I share with you humidity
of love? Define it as absolute, mix
fluid constitutions? Timidity
and hope perhaps, or active faith affixed
with rapture? Would you compare its presence
to passion gods might incite, and measure
it as relative? When does your pleasance
vaporize from atmospheric pressure,
turn tropic, induced to heavy breathing?
When do your sky-like eyes precipitate
with precious dew, your moist body wreathing
at some Olympic altitude? What fate
draws me to you in this specific mass
of fog where you ignore me when you pass?
Roger Armbrust
March 24, 2012
