desire's own battlefield

(for fulana)

we pass desire to each other
like dutch masters on corners
with fingers flexing
having only felt each other up
in fleeting moments.

you and i
are consenting thieves
shaking down mornings for minutes
which we cover in lemon sugar
tamarind and the most explosive ingredient;
love that asks nothing.

but you are not a thief
you are love's newest liberator
stabbing back with talons
to save yourself
and perhaps all i am is a battlefield
that you need to conquer.

when you and i
leave each other without breath
and your legs tremble, understand
you are a pirate queen
and i am too happy to assist you
in stealing back what belongs to you

love that asks nothing but to say, 'here i am.'