And this poem is called "The Kiss."
Probably written five years after.
"The kiss.
I guided these fires from a body of islands burning
and unable to reach each other.
Every day of needing bends the waters closer to the unseen
flame who moves to have anatomy, whose sudden heat will open
snow's first eyelid to violet iris and pupil
stone like the spring of air between our cheeks
and the whole pink bird's first writhing for it."