There’s something so fluffy along by the snacks
I swan past the island, bury hands in her back
She eyes me, a cat, something green of her
Lean with a whispered hunger like a
Wild thing in the night
Mildly we sip tea as a rolling cabaret fills our sights
Talk of books and art while whips crack the white lights
Eyes tight open and smoldering.
The couch invites a tumbling of limbs
The shower invites steam licked skin
And smeared lipstick
Invited round to find what kind of aligned we are
In the wild hunger of the night…
Bedded, we breakfast on each other
Leave with a warm full glow
Let’s see what may grow
From this Sunday in Spring.
–
Joe Blogs, Aug 2023