i have never wanted anything

as much as i want you

right now

it seems this room couldn't

possibly be any colder

or darker.

the ancient Romans had

an alphabet of 23 letters

with which they represented

their extinct Latin tongue

and after two Millenia we've

succeeded in coming up with

one more letter: U

but even with 24 i find myself

unable to arrange these letters

in tribute to you.

surely their abrupt black on white

cannot do justice to the immaculate

subtlety i call: you

my page is ever blank

pale, clean,

unscathed-- expansive

austere as the skin of your thigh

that my quivering hand

timidly reaches out to

touch.

perhaps if i were to speak Latin

the Latin of Popes who

canonized a man who never lived

& called him St. Valentine.

and gave him a day,

a day i have always dreaded

with its construction paper insincerity

shaped more like a prostate than a heart.

it was on St. Valentine's Day

that i stood at the

top of a staircase

and tore open my chest

and begged the diaper-clad

bastard love-child of Aphrodite

to pierce my flesh, and the flesh

of another with his pagan dart.

it was on that day that i held

my breath and numbed

my touch and silently threw my

body down the stairs.

but your breath

has taught me to breath

your touch

has showed me how to feel.

and my hand in your hand

has rescued that scared little

boy and

ive never wanted anything

as much as i want you

right now.