Poetry's bliss

Tongues feel each others mouths
lungs breathe between them the same air.

Ideas milled into communal space,
leaving no trace,
of fence of apartheid.

No, nothing hides
here,
where
there
is only movement
and only stillness.

Poetry's bliss,
having shed its 'I's
to see
everywhere
mirrors of difference
reflecting infinite shards
of presence,
mutual invitations to kiss.