Us

Our bodies broke and dirty,

we lay on Victorian hardwood

in great intermission.

Your fingers tapped to an uneven blade

 throwing relief to wet flesh.

Close-eyed, I sang Tori Amos

as your spider_leg_hair

tickled my smooth calf.

Lyrics waltzed through

hot oxygen and dipped

to intimate vibrations

until

your strong hand guarded

my mouth and forced

my hips to conclude

your favorite song.

The feature was on

for moisture_inflicted_walls

seeping exhausted beads

of us.