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with promise. He lifts my wrists above
my head, pins them purposefully to the ground
with one strong hand, as if I might complain
about his other hand, voyaging over
my body, lingering in all the right places.
It already knows me. Such intimate
awareness deserves trust, and so I open
myself to it. And to Kyle. He takes complete
control. Instinct or experience? No matter.
My body surrenders. Reacts. Invites.
He is not gentle. But I am not afraid.
And as we rise and rise in symphony,
each note completely new to me, I think
I might never be frightened again.
AWASH
In love’s pastel afterglow,
we drive slowly back toward
town. Back toward Matt. Still
wondering what I’ll tell him, but
worrying less about his reaction.
As we turn down the dirt track
toward home, Kyle pulls over.
He gives me a long kiss, then
says, I’ll pick you up tomorrow,
okay? We’ll deal with Matt together.
He puts the truck in gear, and
as we near the trailer, I notice
Dad sitting outside, smoking.
When he sees who I’m riding
with, his body straightens.
