When you caress the hollow
between my shoulder blades
with your tongue,
I feel the hairs leap from my arms,
breasts stand at attention,
taut and reaching,
longing to be touched.
Your breath on my skin
softly whispering,
yes and again, yes
slipping from your mouth,
soothing susurrations
like water wending its way
through crevices and over rocks.
And I come to understand
that no matter what we’ve lost,
or how disquiet trickles
into the tapestry of our bones,
at this moment,
our intertwining limbs
knit like scar tissue
into a fabric that won’t tear.
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