It begins with the sense that the sacredness may be you.

We’re walking through the park

and I link my arm through hers

and we walk like that until

we reach a bench. The stars

are glittering somewhere, but

where we are, it isn’t night yet.

The water glimmers and the

world has stopped shaking

long enough to sit beside her

and not feel the mosquito’s

yearning to bite and suck

and otherwise make a bloody

mess of things.

I think of all the things we’re taught

to swallow down and it’s a bit like

sitting inside a sentence, climbing

letters, examining their bodies,

calling it form, calling the desire

for union something abstract.