Heliotropism
I’ve never known the ecstasy of burning
In the Sun-heat from your
Nutmeg-colored skin.
You and I both cloak ourselves
In repartee and hyperbolic laughter,
Obscured within the cunning folds
Of our agreed, relational hijabs.
I’ve noticed lately, when you howl at
Words I coyly slide from mouth to ear,
The edges of your mirth and your
Enjoyment, your ebullient delight,
Are frayed and tasseled, ragged-hemmed –
They spark with hidden flames.
I do not dare to touch you.
Do not dare.
If we without our veils were to engage in
Solar-powered revelations, could
We not withstand the furious,
Undiscovered, secret storms
That might rage, then?