Every Time We Hug

Everytime we hug
we inbreathe each other,
we entrust a little bit more of ourselves
like a grant, a little gift,
to one another,

something to flavour,
a breath of garden,
something like a fever,
an incalescent yearn for mutual warmth,
something from another monarchy
of being "me",
a bowl of soup
a relish of enthusiasm
to remember
or to be remembered by,
a peep
into the diorama of passion!

Every time we hug
something in us dig deep in the others,
something fathomless rooted in their chest,
zeroing in
on something left behind,
a piquancy, a feeling, so familiar yet lost, elusive,
the immurement that set us free,
the clicking sound
when wings are matched.

Every time we hug
the universe contracts,
the detached two between "us"
are one and attached,

"us",
the brims of a lesion!
arms reaching out through the bars!
the Creation of Adam
fingers reaching out.
stalagmites and stalactites!
Melting and annealing

-Suppuration
of separation,
out of
the skin of time
on Sistine Chapel Ceiling!

Ulceration of now
in the flesh of
Spaceless Feelings!-

Every time we hug
time pauses,
love
goes on
healing.