An Unassailable Storm

Tumult spears the diminishing space
between gazes locked in secrecy

and gears the auras
in convergence.

For what is here is patience,
the contingency of desire
that bellows like a bell.

Touch imparts warmth,
fearless laughter,
a rousing of the stance
against the dance
of gasping light across the walls,

and it’s the way which the sound falls
like wired rain that really gets to me,

and the way that I tremble
when her lips caress my neck,

and every faltering breath
becomes an unassailable storm.

-r. miller


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