WENDY HAMMOND

Puddle

I cannot reach my breath 
when I am under you. Yours 
is pressing into me, and mine 
hangs motionless a few feet away 
monitoring the way light 
travels across your back. 

Your body hard against, 
could crush me 
with the weight of hunger. 
The headboard 
like gunfire into the wall behind us. 

You press my wrists into the mattress 
and hold them there, 
like lockdown 
before the coaster drops, 
the anticipation 
before my belly flies off. 

My body the sponge 
feasts on your sweat. 
The scent of sex 
the circumference pendulant 
around us. 

As the sounds of cascading 
harmonize, 
my eyes call out . 

Then come the whispers, 
slow and sluggish, 
into the valley 
of gentle breezes 
as the drops and puddles of us 
dissolve into the sheets.

copyright WENDY HAMMOND