Last Night’s Embers

She’s permitted me.
Has me thinking
filthy verses.
New songs I thought
I'd never know.
Since the night I knotted her hair.

Headboards are for hands to hold
and mouths for more than talk.
Her laugh summons more than comfort.
Softest palms and slick smooth sin.
Heaven tossed my pillows aside.

Somewhere’s a forgotten ceiling.
Echoes never start.
Quaking quiet but for breath.
Invisible smiles and lusty sighs.
Tasting wonder on her lips
And the pressing of her thighs.

Flicked aside the dust
of my last halo.
Placed teeth on me
then formed no words.
Her mouth
had me speaking in tongues.

Serious and slow
I feel steam in the shadow.
My stomach would shiver
if not so clenched.
Wanting nothing more than more of this.
Etching a landscape into my eyelids.

She’s a breathing temple.
Within, I broke my wisdom.
Whispering cursed words
beside the nape of her neck.
An altar in the cradle of her arm.
Worship in these halls for an age.

Such patient rhythms
claw the back of urgency.
Setting eyes to fumble for light.
A glimpse of what I touch.
Hope could be quenched
in such elegant shapes.

When the music stopped
we sculpted our own.
We’ve made a hymn.
Pressed like a flower
in the crease of my sheets.
Embers at the feet of my bed.