By sarah iristakeroot@powerlynk.com
Date: 18 July 2000
night to come
her back arches in
the quiet night...
with the sound of
crickets just below
the open window
she feels her muscles
contracting against her
will and her lips
emit a sigh as she traces
a finger down her
side, his eyes haunt her
at night when her barriers
fall and he comes calling
on the clouds and the moon
guides him to her open
door and she welcomes him
in with a flashing of her eyes
her tongue traces her lips
and her hands are drawn up
to her breast and cups it in
her hand, an offering a pale
offering for him in the cool
night shadow and he comes to her
on his knees with his eyes
intent on making two holes in her
flesh with them her body quivers
with him near and her signs grow
not in protest but in longing from
something that has been kept from her
for so long and he feels the need
in her and answers it with his own
with his own hours of loneliness and
pain as they answer each others questions
through their body letting years of
hurt wash away in the sweat that fell
from their bodies in the entangled
limbs for their sentences they created
their own language that night....
and they will create another one in
nights to come
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