SHRIMP CROSS BACKHer shape
puts me at peace
lying propped up, one elbow jutting
one foot lolling out of damp sheets
curled in a knot of former movement
the wind outside is hitting moss covered shingles
like it wants to join in
clouds swirl like drunken sailors over-head
she has a strange gait
as if unsure of being girl or boy
yet her legs are as straight as a dancers
envious I suspect of my curves
the tattoo that begs to be planed
for every vein and every vessel
we are ever waiting to reach deeper
the fusion of two lovers
one defying gravity with breasts like pinches
mocking those half her age who struggle to stay
retroussé
the other a drunk without bottle
swimming in fear and loathing
tempered sometimes by her steady hand
pulling me to discomfort
where pier lights wink til past the witching hour
relieved nobody burning needs
quenching
 

0 Replies to “Quenching”

  1. The wind wanting to join in- absolutely brilliant. Listen to the wind- it has a language all to its self. Who can harness the wind? Let it join her- and swirl around her with delight……..
    Love is like the wind- you can’t see it- but you can certainly feel it…. She is free !

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