another gravity…
You see everything, you see every part.
You see all my light and you love my dark.
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed.
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate.
And you’re still here.
– Alanis Morissette –
our minor refusals…
A man looks deep into your eyes, practicing for the day he finally sees himself as fresh, so sweet. Your hair, your skin caught up in a man’s hands is the way he kneads Grace, Hope, and Faith into the marrow of his bones. His pre-cum glistens like the giving of his deepest heart; pristine. When your velvet, thrumming pussy clenches him tight, a man’s jaw tightens, and for that instance, he is undiminished – he is fearless.
— Lola Moi —
beannachtai na feile padraig oraibh…
I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over.
Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.
– Kurt Vonnegut –
the sound of things falling…
The smooth edges of my pussy glide up along your legs to your hips and farther still; I shift and adjust, finally resting at peace here behind you. I trust you with my weight. With the smoothest part of myself, I come to stillness atop your broad back. The oil slides. When I stroke and knead, your body winces from memories it will not speak – the details of all your hurts and joys I will likely never know.
There is a knot wrapped around one of your ribs, under your arm. I place my hand on this, this secret. My long legs straddle your width and our flesh mingles. My clit nestles. You are warm; I am grateful for your heat. With each inhale, I feel your expanse under the soft of my palm. I ease myself into this tender spot hidden under your arm, in the shadow of your bony cage.
For all our uncertainty, you allow me here – with you, in this place. I hold it dear, like a fawn who has yet to try her legs. I protect what lies under hand. This is what I do for you. And in return you close your eyes and breathe… just, breathe. This is what we are: a man and a woman, naked. We are the shadow.
And there is nothing between us. . . nothing except the hot breath of secrets.