Valentino Tango (2)
He says nothing.
It's the black fire
of his eyes, the
desert less hot
than his heat.
Of course there
is a haven he's
the sheik of but
in the daze of
how he holds your
body-- it's only
his pelvis against
yours, your knees
kissing each
other. Drums in
your blood
throb. The
electricity could
light up Mars
