The road to love ends, not with nudity,
But nakedness; we think flesh is the goal
And believe that, when others let us see
Uncovered body parts, we know their soul.
But how can someone’s soul be subject to
Time? —Gravity? —A diet? When my hands
Reach out to touch the flesh that houses you,
They stroke not soul but what your soul commands:
The pretty body you were born into,
The flesh for which my flesh feels low desires.
But what ignites me when I look at you
Is not the oven’s beauty, but the fire’s—
Beauty that burns in your most precious part—
What my soul burns to see: your naked heart.