Afterthoughts


It’s silly how I try to find excuses
To touch you
Or try to find a reason
To come near you—
Anticipating the slightest feel
Of your skin
On mine;
Imagining your breath
Raising the tiny hairs
At the back of my head,
Sending me into wild reminiscences
Of that night’s rained-on passion.

That morning found myself
Uttering your name
Again and again
As you curled beside me
While I lulled you to sleep.

Before you woke up,
I prayed for a morning of rain
To douse the tongues of fire
That had slowly burnt
All over me, through me,
Blazing,
Settling between my thighs,
The thickness of flame
Tickling my belly—
And finally
Resting
On my mouth:

You have left blue butterflies
Fluttering on my breasts.



For Kulas
16 September 2002
5:20 pm