heterodox

It turns out 
for years 
I confused anxiety 
with butterflies.

All the ones
I thought
gave me flutters
gave me ulcers.

Movies taught me 
love was fraught.

But this 
heterodox delight,
this soft kiss and sigh
alighting on upturned lips,
I feel not in my stomach
but in my chest and hips
as I lean against 
your sturdy form and
make a pillow of your arm.