Dave Bonta's "Anatomy" begins with something we can't see: the body's hidden workings, all the muscle, bone and nerve beneath the skin. The poem then moves to what those hidden parts make possible, a kiss, a pressing together, desire that seems almost to sing. The rushed, unpunctuated phrase "the kiss the press the every" feels breathless, as if the speaker can't slow down enough to separate one sensation from the next.
In the second stanza the poem makes a surprising comparison. Just as believers imagine the true God, we picture a whole world "absurdly set down / in our room." The word "absurdly" is interesting. The speaker seems to find it both ridiculous and wonderful that two people in one small space can feel as though they hold everything. The mood is intimate, a little playful, and quietly awed. The poem suggests that desire stretches a private room into something vast, and that this leap of imagination is a kind of faith.