I have two fingers under the pulse
and it moves me like I move it
and it loves me when
I move it.
I can’t stop the fluttery feeling,
the ache that’s almost not-quite:
though I’m feeling way too hot
I let it pulse.
And when that heart-attack earth-shattering
thunder of God comes out of that mouth
I revere just as so—
it comes out in a flow
let it pulse.
So I let it pulse.