Who is not a stranger still
even after making love,
or the morning after?
The interlude of sleep again divides
it is clear again where one body
ends and the next begins,
Think to think at each encounter,
we will be strangers still
even after making love
and long conversation,
even after meals and showers
together
and years of touching.
It is not often that the core
of what I am is lost in longing
and is less often filled.
I understand my clinging
to the though of you…
By Stephany Fuller, from Moving Deep, copyright 1969.
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