~ Aching for ~

Rather love in a Godard film –

say something, unexpected

(fuck her in the kitchen, on the counter, before

chopping carrots, melting butter in cast iron), but she

is already naked, wanting him to come, knowing

he will leave soon, and so will she, her hands soft with his

hair’s oils, thighs ringing from tongue’s play on that wet

mouth, sucking or stroking, lips

do both in night time imagined full around

her, dense with rain and the longing of shadow to be

caressed into form, hands finding contours

and textures of skin told by skin – the mute story of

palm on breast, aching for, fingertips describing nipples

in the passing red marks desire squeezed, small and firm

with wanting. She lets goosebumps rise, so he can follow

the fade of belly into hip as she walks from bedroom to hallway