Touch in the Bed of Light
The air carries the softness and luster of pearl,
but the wonder of that fades, when he feels her stir beside him,
feels her fingertips brush his cheek.
Across barren winters he slept alone, under the distant moon
after she died, and their long life and love together was done.
How brittle and wrenching, each night, to remember the sight
of her eyes forever closed, gently ended, beloved features stilled
in a crone’s deep dignity.
When in the dawn of a cold morning he also sighed
and breathed out his spirit,
there was an end to age, and the partings it brings.
She cries out softly, as if she too had been sleeping,
lonely in dream, to awake and find her body’s completion
within the reach of a yearning hand.
There in the white light of a morning without night,
he brushes jet-black hair from her forehead, sees lips
full and longing, graced with hope and lust,
as they were on the night they first chose each other.
She cries again as he comes to her, withered body renewed,
and his lips touch tears on her face that are pure
as a crystal stream, free from any salt of pain.
In a single moment, then, is melded
the awkward, hungry touch of youth, fumbling at clothes,
starved for the heat beneath;
the surging strength of the muscles of desire, night after night,
unquenchable, in a poor young couple’s apartment;
moments of harsh delight, riding waves of aggression spiced with need;
the sweetest, gentlest fuck, her back against his chest,
her body brimming with life and their child within;
the touch of her mouth on his cock in middle age,
body aching from the weight of days,
but with her lips and tongue banishing all weariness;
moments of red anger turned to passion,
her nails scoring blood-streaks across his back;
her voice, breathless in laughter, broken in tears.
The healing balm of arms to hold each other, when the dark seemed close.
There in the morning of the soul, they kiss again,
breath coming in gasps threaded with every jagged
and peaceful moment of their time, layered into the rapture of reunion.
When he enters her, it is if a white sun has burst within them,
they are radiant, filled and filling.
He feels her breast in his hand, and the tears are gone.
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99 Pages, Hardcover
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