Night Moves

Tender is the night
Soaked in August heat
Oven-baked-day leftovers
Bodies soft and bendy.
Darkness swallows Noon’s acrid burn,
A sensuous descent
Of thought melting into midnight air
Bones disappearing
Skin surrendered to touch.
Scent of dripping Brugmansa,
Perfumed, poisonous, gold-orbed,
Magic alive and well
Settling deep in the nostrils.
Possibility enters
I am already different