Hold Me

“I am ready,” and I press my face into the sheets.  “Sit up for me, let me run my hands over your arms, your breasts.”

I obey, silently lifting myself from the pillow.  “Take me,” I whisper.

She cups my breasts, still raw after being waxed, “So smooth,” she says.  “Thank you,” she adds.

Gently, now, ever so gently, she pushes me back down onto the bed.  She knew my body better than I knew it myself.  I feel a finger inside me, probing, ever so slowly, and as I relax she tugs up on the inside of me.  “Am I big enough for you?” she asks.  But that does not matter to me at all.

I sigh so quietly that even she cannot hear it.  “Hold me,” I say.

Slightly put off her rhythm, by my talking, she says, “What?”

“Hold me.  Love me!”

My entire body hungers for her.  Love me, hold me, protect me.  Let this embrace last forever!

Urgently now, I whisper just that little bit more loudly, “Own me, take me, and take me completely!”

For I am yours!




Scented unsteadiness tears the air

While the thunder waits

And waits for us to notice.  It waits

As we bait each other with talk

Talk, talk, talk!  Mere words instead

Of feelings.  We use our head to clear

The air.  But we hear still that other sound

That dull hum beneath the street

We walk, silent, dark, arms swinging

Quiet, alongside. Each alone.


Lost, we walk the drift of strangers

Are those your hands which hold papers,

Lighters, promises, lies?  Or mine?

The hands pass one to another,

Mine, yours, someone, anyone:

Father to friend, and each to each,

They could never know.  Where are they going,

Where would they?  They are done

Each and every one.