His & Hers
I knew he was watching.
an eyeful of aching, a look of sureness;
She matched with mock smiles and an inviting coyness.
for all the exterior of calm, there’s a passionate
tangibility.
It’s her first day on the job, unexperienced
yet clever. Your silhouette colors outside of her lines;
you, plural, mold a new sculpture,
floral thorns avoided while you pick the petals, gently–
His pink petals compliment the blue-green
oxygen of my wrist, my
neck, my eyelids.
Succulent. I must sample.
I evaporate with the fleshy steam of a painter’s tools,
fingertips equally capable of seizing and whispering to the skin; warming
and cooling; understated sensuality.
you discover where
the sky holds
the sun,
holds
the ocean
in his murmur–
a blinding vision
beneath
fluttering lids,
sensuous and sensitive.
He inhales a breathe of you,
exhales fire
put out by ripples of waves caused
by the union of the moon and the stars when he invades the spaces between your fingers, with his
into the morning nightfall.
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