He used her belly as a card table
Three hearts in an inverted triangle
facedown, cold, shiny

each card, when turned,
caught patterns from the bedroom lamp
light and shadow balanced

He leant forward
pressed his lips around her navel
and blew a loud, wet raspberry


~ ~ ~


Priestcraft

Curled on the bed, smiling
like a cat in front of a fire
chummy, abiding,
crescent-shaped
unmoved since last I looked,
you laugh, like flesh pink

A snapshot
A picture I kiss into life
A few-frame flick movie
of compacted decades

So much more here when I add history
more than is in the clean moment –
the fresh moment that does not tint
your eyes

I count senses like it's an exam
like it's essential for me
to know something is missing

I don't make the rules
Things just come to an end



~ ~ ~




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