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Tonight we bob in a blanket
of warm water, breathing in clandestine,
celestial afterglow, the hot air of sex,
swollen, caught in this sedentary world
of moving color, gray on gray, salmon
on cream.
Smoky, the way our bones melt tonight
inside a circle of small flames,
drowned in the moat of a metallic tub,
two bodies, frosted, infantile,
porcelain knives,
steamy and comfortable.
You sung me your praises like a flower
being born, dangling above the halo
of my head.
I felt your words slide deep,
deep inside my knobby knees, my mouth,
my aquamarine roses
papering the walls.
You sprung your hungry weeds
into the pool, the soft cups of my breasts,
the cool, wan knots
of my clicking vertebrae.
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