Afterthoughts

I sit in silence by the open bedroom window
The sweat has dried upon my breasts
And there is a stickiness between my thighs
That will no doubt leave a stain upon the chair
Downstairs the clock strikes two
Announcing the time to the sleeping, unlistening house
While in the bed behind me he sleeps
Deep, slow breaths of unconscious contentment.
Above the night painted trees
The summer moon hangs, full and pregnant
Its silver light is cold upon my naked skin
And my belly is filled with his seed