Home I:
Making Love
Poem by Joy Yourcenar
Images by Eric Boutilier-Brown

for EBB

Sex can be lonely.
Physical poets,
we go to bed,
wrapping our identities,
protectively around us
so our lovers
will not see
our naked spirits.
We don't quite know
what we want
from each other
and we are afraid
that, when we do,
it will be both
too much
and not enough
to justify
our need to touch
and hold.

Making love is different
or it's supposed to be.