Last Lust

So,
here we are
together again,
familiarity stiff with
fresh healed hostilities,
from weeks of warring,
concentrating on the task at hand.

You used to cook,
I’d set the table,
your wok, my china.
Your cock, my vagina?
Stop it!
Once comfortably
commandeered,
now an insistent itch
of need.

Erotic novels bought together
on blustery bookish days,
bellwether for our future,
blurt obscenely
over the floor.

Other evidence of discordance,
photos ripped in two; gifts given
then cast back in anger,
the Tiffany lamps, the nipple clamps,
the crystal glass, the distal pass
of your eyes over this mess.

Undeniable electricity crackles
at the brush of knuckles, hissing
breathless thirst. Instant recall,
Saturday morning’s bed destroyed,
bathroom floods from shower sex, body-heated
hot tub. Eyes meet in understanding,
just once more for old times’ sake.