Back To The Flesh

it is still the warmth of the flesh of the arms and legs
and somewhere between
that make us feel more alive

we are not saints
not angels, we are humans still rooted to the ground
less our imaginary wings
and halos and white feathers
if at all we are meant to be
divine
holy

i touch your body and you touch mine
and set ourselves on fire

the world, in some ways, in its darkness
at noon
or night time, gets lighted with our lust

i call it love, because it feels so right
my blood pumping from my heart to my head to my bottom
to my toes

and i moan, and i sigh, and i think, at a glimpse when i close my eyes
i have seen the eyes of God looking so gently
to the eyes of my soul

inside this body,
my bones did not make the sound of the rattling snake

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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