as your thumb primes my lips
they make a fuss for truth—
the rest of you, reduced:
fingertips and torso

while too much of me tingles,
you knead the sorest knot

my heart, how you have wrought me:

to tantrum only tempered
going through—

my heart, this distance I can’t weather:
I must be among you—
as we together envy blooming life.