Hungry for your face your lips
       your scalloped curves, harmonies
of violins within your
      skin your spine your northern sea

of rhythm your southern sea
      symphony of waves that rise
roll and flow like a trombone
      solo, hungry for the highs

and lows, pianissimo
      breaths that make us whole. Forte
cello bass drum our bodies
      release perfect pitch, relay

intervals and seventh chords.
      Horde the hums that make us numb
hungry for presto-presto
       then adagio then strum

then descend and blend the night
       inside white sheets, cuddle, spoon
the silver of our souls, blend,
       ascend, become the wolf moon.