Two Days of You

Sunday Afternoon:


Softly, so softly

We lie together

The blankets fold,

            Forming crevices, ridges

A geomorphic human landscape.


Brief words

Tumble down from the hills and peaks

Of our supine forms

One by one

Rolling from your tongue

Over my breasts

Across my hips

To dissipate

In the downy, quilted flatlands

That warm our skin


Slowly, so slowly

Your fingers follow the pathways of your words

Up the foothills of my breasts

Crossing my hips

Pausing in the same down-feathered lands,



Quietly, so quietly

Your lips follow the trail that

            Your fingers and your words

So gently broke.

Teasing and sweeping the same path

Stopping briefly to map the softness that lies above my shoulders

Then your lips trace a line to my breasts

And the quietness of our landscape departs

As I take you

And you take me.



Monday Morning:


I walk through the river of human flesh

That streams inexorably past me

Eddies of words surround me

Droplets of laughter splash across my face.

I breathe carefully, holding my head above the current.

Rushing, rushing –

Suddenly I feel your breath, your tongue

Taste your lips

See your hands

My vision blurs and darkens

My legs shake and my body trembles

            And I am drowning

Lost in the memory of the intensity of our coupling

I grasp for something to hold

So I am not swept away

            While I sweetly drown.

My fingers drag across the rough edge of a brick wall

The sharp contrast with my over-taken senses

Brings me back

And I can breathe again.