she shaves him

wary of the rite she shaves him  
for it may surprise her how hot the towel needs to be
and its risk to lay delicate shroud upon his face
and press in both hands tender firm
some dark threat transmuted to trust her touch.
breaks of sea-foam; returning ballast upon the swell  
of tonglen tides cadenced
shave the face the chest,
unto white meadows
blade-scrape the grey wheat in some rash grace
towel-up the toxin’d stalks  
and release their sheaves on the river
and when it falls, they fall,
for open pores long cologne’s sting,
its promise a place other,
a creature, red deer or a nightingale's bay
that break this present's clasp because all he feels is her
presence there
Written by nomoth
Published | Edited 22nd Aug 2019
Author's Note
The Expatriates

The Expatriates

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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