State of behind

The unexpected makes you gasp
the pink of mooning  
your memory, well had it lapsed
your birthday was a month so passed
 
and now you see the ironing board  
the outstretched arm the power cord
the muscles tense below her waist
the crevices that you adore
 
her body sways as if in waltz
your heart quickens, blood starts to course
take her from the rear  
fresh linen on an old clothes horse