Twilight. When she loves him
to make love to her.
She has waited a long time.
Her smile’s like a once-over
through her sidelong glance,
one arm cradling her long hair.
Her breasts, nipples that pucker.
Her jinn under Mardi Gras beads.
Her legs around his wand inside her.
A dream of fucking as they sleep.
No rest? . . . The best is love’s rest:
Her piquant eyes too happy to weep.
(12-13 September 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander