What I'd Rather Say Than Fight, But I Won't

She moves me sometimes
like a small girl with her first drum
straddled and slammed with mallets on both sides
arms flailing
hair swinging
mouth open
spit flying.

Right now she's frustrated with me
so I don't tell her
that all I want to do is to kiss her mouth-
to melt into the kind of kiss where mouths open wide
tongues stretch
and faces can't possibly mash close enough together
to feel as close as you want to feel
without jaws breaking.