“Sacrament” by Rod McKuen

I like my body lying next to yours.

My leg against your leg and over it
the muscle quivering to touch
the luxury of thighs that open onto thighs.
I like our sighs together and I like
my body lying next to yours at night
                       and every morning.

I wear you
coming next to you
as I would clean cotton shirt
soft to the touch you are and tingling.
And everything you touch
is but a punctuation to yourself.

I love the loss of vagrancy inside your arms
your fingers swarming on my back
            like bees attacking single flower.
The light from out your eyelids coming.
The puzzled humming in my ear
as you nod yes not having heard
the question that I asked.
Your hair unmasked for what it is-
a tangled web of craziness
is like a whim not taken up.
So too your mouth is glowing, fair,
runs hot and cold and in no pattern.
I like our elbows, noses, knees
interrupting rhythms that should be truer.
Your breasts are skillful, genius each,
priceless in a bed world
whose currency is chance.

I love the ample of you
                  and the lean
the part of you expecting flesh
and rising up to meet it.

The symmetry of you is what I love
                     odd angles too
those energy propelling sighs
and little cries from you.
The ivory underside of you
the tanned and glowing legs and arms.

I love the wind of you
as much as the unwinding.
The kindness of your inner ear
is more than I can bear to speak about.

All honey to the heart,
all pasture to the eyes
the size of you is one great breath
taken in, held, not expelled, not ever.
Ingenious are your ankles, calves, hips
stepping stones to the great wonder
                                      on ahead.

What I love most in all the world
is my own body next to yours.
It is a vanity, a wonderful conceit.