I felt you in a thunderstorm last night.
You came to me in the thunder's rumbling
and in the searing electric flash that followed,
I knew you,
your eyes the perfect color of wet moss.
I opened to you like a drought-parched flower
under darkening skies
and drank you in like the rain.
We came together like two stormclouds
building toward some distant rumbling
that burst suddenly upon us
with all the helpless trembling of poems
that we could not contain in words,
and when you kissed me again
I forgot the existence of words
until in the wake of the storm, I lay drenched
in your arms, my dripping hair coiling and clinging
snakelike to your chest, your shoulders,
as I listened to the racings iambs of your heart.
I kissed the last raindrops from your lips,
wondering why we ever thought to speak.
The moment was a haiku, short yet infinite.
And we...
we were a wordless sonnet.