The sheets cradle you
in wrinkles of gold and cream
every angle where your body bends
like a brush stroke on a cloud
my eyes stray across impressions
made on your rumpled clothing
hills rising of hot breath and need
valleys caved by the vacuum in your lungs
my fingertips imagining the rasp of hair
beneath thin material and the ridge of
muscle buffered by white cotton
a thin band of golden skin showing
across your lower stomach, a swath
of poison my tongue aches to taste
your lashes tremble to hold their place
as prison bars against the reality seeping in
in this darkness where we can't touch
you can feel me, too, and I am content
to know that I'm that much inside of you

© Averil Sperry