tempting one another, between their palms
a new language they will find,
with laughter dancing in their treason’s belly:
their breasts, veiling their fire;
their hair, breathing sighs against their cheeks
and their eyes, becoming the shadow of a singular angel.
Accomplices, their hearts,
levitating, will make their fires dance.
their wings, covered in wind;
their arms, of flesh,
subjugated by brushings of skin
and their hunger to conspire.
What will they do
—once their passion is set free—
and what will they say,
after, naked, they conjugate their thunder:
their lies, dressed in secrets;
their scars, intimate, plowing through the body’s memories
their hands, holding each other over an abyss;
their legs, lingering beyond their original promise:
from a brazen sky, where one would fall
and the other would outlive him;
to a horizon of sky frozen with fire
and a hell of fire frozen.
Forbidden were their lips,
with words they invented,
made of substance, soul, and fire:
She
—her voice—
close;
He, longing to recite her
with bites that would murmur,
“Your wings fly over me,” far away,
where war
descends along both necks,
until it surrenders to the eternity
of being fallen demons,
among themselves, their past;
toward an entwined future
of mortal bodies with an end.