April 8, 2008

Caught in a thunderstorm,

rain sluices down my body.

A droplet discovers an opening

in my doused wool to slither down my flesh.


I imagine that it’s your index finger making

the path down my throat, in-between my breastbone

and onto my belly, where you pause

for a brief second before sliding down the right side

and getting absorbed by my blouse.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s