Hinting at Tenderness

The garish light of dawn flickers across
Her face – it hints at autumn storms to come;
Her mouth is slightly open; with her loss
Of consciousness, I have, slowly, begun
To strip her of her clothing in repose:
A gentle, tender denudation for
I would not have her realise her clothes
Are being shed like russet  foliage; “whore,”
I whisper in her ear and squeeze her breast
To see if she will wake up as I take
Her body, while her soul lies here at rest;
“Come, spread your legs,” I murmur, “I will make
You love the feeling, though you will not tell
Me how you loved it, for you slept so well.”