“what you do like fluid”

[quote from e’s mystery comment-poet]

the way a drip skulks in the faucet
sixty seconds or more before
slapping itself down on ceramic
an ice pick–or single jackhammer stroke

wear that dress, the ghost one
that flows around your legs when you walk
slit slipping loose those sexy stockings
stalking your legs across the ballroom floor
not covering so much as hovering

his paws show no sign of it
fur tufts stuck between toes don’t betray it
a mounting pressure behind those following eyes
seconds in air, he flies from couch to kitchen tiles
pouncing expert on the teasing toy

and finally, us together, webbed in blankets
arms sticky and slithering, covering cocoon-like bodies
in a passion of moistness, a smothering humidity
we drown ourselves intentionally
and come, up, gasping for air

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *