Loving After Loss

I towered over you, pressing my fingers to your chest.  

There, the gentle  
thumping of your life!  

You fingered my ring.  
“I wear it to discourage men like you.”
You smiled, happy to have found your place.  

“It was my mother’s.”
You drew your hand away.

As I said those words
I became dizzy in awe of the heat that burned inside of us.  

An unseen sphere fell away and I saw our nakedness  
as my mother might have seen it when I was a child.  
I glanced toward the window open to the night sky.  
 
I dance above you unashamed,  
muscles, tendons, and smooth skin drawing your swollen fire in deep.
 
I wished others could see it.
It all felt so pure and right.  
 
My bare breasts glowed from the lamp you didn’t turn out as I’d asked
when we kissed.    
 
Did I see tears in your eyes?  
Yours was the face of a child on Christmas morning approaching the tree.  

I blushed as your pulsing began.  
Our eyes were fixed to each other as we shared that happiness.  

Before we slept, I stared out the open window to see my mother smiling, knowing I can still love after loss.