I hesitate to make love to your astral body
as if that would be more wrong than to go on thinking:
which it is, much wronger, in the scales of sinning
that waver in the corners of my memories of your dancing eyes;
as if it were a step too natural or un-
between my thoughts and my your astral body�s taking
here, on the futon, so that me at bay I�m keeping;
as if it were a thing too drastic to be done:
the making of love, slowly, with your astral body
on a hot night while the cable television�s beaming
lesbian, lesbian love into the lockdowns of collective dreaming;
as if it were off-limits to do more than theorize.