I lay in an exhausted daze,
letting my heartbeat recalibrate
while my satisfied stare somehow
picks up a game of “You blinked”
with the half finished naked lady
tattooed on his calf.
The fact that this game
always ends in an impasse
suddenly makes me laugh.

He springs to his feet,
like a young boy suddenly remembering
where he cleverly hid last months’ allowance,
an innocent wide grin on his still-flushed face.
I watch him flounder and then
he finds the mini waffle maker
and begins to cook us some
highly underrated, heavenly sustenance.
We dine solely on this swollen eucharist
and each other during his visits,
our sticky fingers granting each other
absolution from our mutual sins.

After feeding our incessant
cravings for each other,
as well as our unpredictable appetites,
I ritually arrange the various
accoutrements as an offering to him.
As our own form of divination,
whereby our unspoken desires
become manifest in the now
and which awakens this primal
fire within me and I begin to channel Lilith, pouring forth all she’s been
forced to repress since the sweet tartness
of Fall was tasted by patriarchal lips.

As we finally surrender
to the intensity and slowly come down, intertwined in each others’ arms,
the sun breaks free on the horizon
and I begin to understand
why being caste out was a necessity
given the immense power
of our combined passion,
along with the divine,
would have been too much
for one fledgling human soul
to ever wield successfully.
© Buffy Lee