the machinists
the touch at first is tentative
then curious, as flesh meets flesh
and all coherency is aborted
the tumble of babbling
springs forth into the clamy, damp air
hands find purchase in warm skin
the heartbeats like the wings of a hummingbird
trapped in a cage of bone and sinew
scars are sealed with swipes of a tongue
swollen from suckling
two puzzle pieces slam together
and pull apart violently in effort
to become one
no words are needed in this heat
flesh on flesh
skin on skin
will sufice
and all that is found wanting
is sated
sticky, curled around each other
they who have found themselves as one,
sleep
for they believe in a
deux ex-machina
