|
| continued | ||
| she never wonders | ||
| what happened to him. | ||
| safe home from her work | ||
| she still is (mostly) in love with, | ||
| red, neat trimmed nails linger | ||
| on pale plastic keys - | ||
| the feel of them giving | ||
| willingly, almost instinctive, | ||
| as she presses just so; | ||
| eyes persuaded into light gray | ||
| by the screen's silent chatter, | ||
| her legs curled against her, | ||
| she shakes sapphire fatigue from her head, | ||
| hair bouncing, swiftly caressing | ||
| the nape of her neck where it lays; | ||
| Kenny G plays his last linger, | ||
| causing her to stop now and then, | ||
| hand on chin, lashes kissing. | ||
| she dims the light, her breasts rise in time | ||
| to a sigh of delicious tiredness spent; | ||
| crisp sheets, her feet savor the tingle - | ||
| the gathering warmth of a satin embrace; | ||
| In darkness' release, the clock's glow | ||
| keeping watch as sleep snuggles her close. | ||
| she never wonders | ||
| what happened to him. | ||
| © Jon Bohrn (1999) | ||
