Accomplices

I lay in the thick clouds of faraway,
unmoving as your feet pad catlike toward the land where I float unknowing.
The water dips where you sink in
pulling the covers with feather eddies over me
but I am silent,
still.

You are the thief stealing through my night:
the unclaimed hand curled upturned on the pillow,
the rising hips,
the blond crown, soft and ticklish,
the knee bent so,
the hanging breast,
the mouth open with half said sighs,
the warmth of sleepy smells
are your prize.

Your cool skin burns against me,
the pressing of your thigh on mine,
the wrapping arm and tickled nose at my ear,
where sudden soft whispers stir the silent pool of dreams where you find me.
Your liquid web draws me unknowing upward from the deep layers of inky dreams,
up to the soft light of smiles and pressing lips at my cheek.
I cannot speak:
my heavy feet still weigh me down.
You draw me in unresisting, upward.
Your hand in silent triumph surfs the wave of my hips,
holds the heavy fruit of my bottom until,
with an infant mew
I stir.
You are smiling, pleased and alone no more.
Now casting, kisses on my puzzled brow
you speak my name and familiar, I respond.
Your body heavy against me,
cooler with unslept limbs on mine,
your hand at mine, where I curl my fingers.
Your nose intrudes,
your lips behind my ear,
soft
wet.

Bolder, your hand drags me closer
and I smell your breath, sweet with drink and bitter with nicotine
and I objecting,
moan.
You are insistent:
your insistent, stroking hand on my side,
your insistent kisses on my frowning head,
your insistent hardness in my back.
You want and I must give.
You have wronged me by your theft
but I object little.
I wish that you would tire: that the cat would lose interest and be distract.
Yet here inside,
your hardness,
that hand of your insistence stirs a thought.
For drip by drip,
the ice in your hand begins to melt:
you feel your fingers wet and my objection loses ground.
I am undone by my body yet again,
betrayed by her hunger.
My turning head lets your lips press mine
but they are kisses of concession:
of your want
and my compliance.
It is our bodies that hunger and which we must feed.
Perhaps the seed of lust pushes you reluctant too?
Its bursting growth springs fast to ensnare us,
for we are wrapped in its limbs of coiling flesh.
Liquid I am pierced,
your stabbing flesh in mine.
Your groan of satisfaction:
my shock of possession.
We are Shylocks hands,
feasting in the wealth of our bodies,
gloating in the richness of our flesh.
You stab me harder and I welcome your soft blows
that fill my little body with your strength.
I hear your little words of love
but the foreign tongue of your panting breath speak louder.
The rutting beast with fixed mouth and eyes.
The symmetry of your hands at my hips.
your imperfect rhythm,
tripping and stumbling in haste for victory.

I yield to you, my love,
all that I am is now given.
You surmount my last defence,
with hot wet mouth and stubble chin you announce
what I already know inside:
your swelling,
that bird-like flutter,
that tension before the leap.
You come for me.
Your gift,
your mystery,
your blessing of our union.
I cry out for loss,
for I have won your seed
but soon you will be gone.
Your voice, familiar with words of love,
of my name repeated often
and now your wet slipping flesh is gone
and I am lost again.