Late Night Loving

It's quiet here at last: the music's stopped;
And so has all your movement, save the chest
That rises up, then falls, as you repose;
You're deep in sleep and your pupils are locked
Away until the morning; this is best
For me as well: the ticking clock just goes
On through the night; its sound will not be blocked
Out by my conscious mind that can't divest
Itself of these nocturnal thoughts; suppose
I slid my face down to your groin and stocked
My mouth with turgid flesh that I find blessed
With life despite somnolence: see - it grows
And hardens as I suck and lick - a riot
Of tensions here at night, when all is quiet