The fifth time we made love
The fifth time we made love
Sun shot off zipper teeth,
landed in ladders on my ribs.
A tangle of ankles, kissing knots,
our hip skin pulling like watered vines,
like reluctant lint dislodging from wool.
Hands pliéd atop arches.
Hair slid bristle across pillow.
Knuckles bent in your underneath heat,
combing, loosening the stack of your mouth
with a curl of winter breath.
Breasts sweetened pink with rub.
Bodies pumped the arch of accordion.
Distracted by the birth of snow,
I pulled away, a pubic hair pressed
and drying in the pleat of my palm.
-Camille
Sun shot off zipper teeth,
landed in ladders on my ribs.
A tangle of ankles, kissing knots,
our hip skin pulling like watered vines,
like reluctant lint dislodging from wool.
Hands pliéd atop arches.
Hair slid bristle across pillow.
Knuckles bent in your underneath heat,
combing, loosening the stack of your mouth
with a curl of winter breath.
Breasts sweetened pink with rub.
Bodies pumped the arch of accordion.
Distracted by the birth of snow,
I pulled away, a pubic hair pressed
and drying in the pleat of my palm.
-Camille