The Exchange

here is myself,
poured in a word that causes
you hiccups during your sleep.
drink, drink, when I pass you a cup

give me a little of you
your snail lips of water.
let us swap our tears and pleasure
you, me and the sweat that be

in every liquid of us,
we will make a wave
we will bed the boats of sunsets,
and still the skies that threaten with rain.

give me, take me, give yourself
let my hands be filled,
left hands will make right promises
in the exchange of gods and chi.

Ruddapoet