By C.K. Williams

They're at that stage where so much desire streams between
    them, so much frank need and want,
so much absorption in the other and the self and the
    self-admiring entity and unity they make -- 
her mouth so full, breast so lifted, head thrown back so far in 
her
    laughter at his laughter,
he so solid, planted, oaky, firm, so resonantly factual in the
    headiness of being craved so,
she almost wreathed upon him as they intertwine again, touch
     again, cheek, lip, shoulder, brow,
every glance moving toward the sexual, every glance away
      soaring back in flame into the sexual --
that just to watch them is to feel again that hitching in the groin,
       that filling of the heart,
the old, sore heart, the battered, foundered, faithful heart,
        snorting again, stamping in its stall.