The Nakedness of Fools

Inner-thighs and forearms, lilac-soft, emit
heat of unabashed warmth as the bed cover
twists as if charmed.
Channelling blood, breath
and sweat on napes become a biosphere
in our zealous mouths.

Stray dogs bay like wolves in the courtyard
where washing lines have entwined themselves
feverishly like our limbs.
From the window,
the full moon becomes fuller and more
gorgeous to the threshold of upcoming dawn.

We swallow light particles, swallow the silken
thread of exchanging words, believing
them fully than any moon,
luminous and ready,
more adamant than the nakedness of fools.

Stefan Bishop

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