McBeth.
Digital bleariness suggests pre-dawn
In another room the cat scratches her neck,
distant jingling of tags
No sirens out the window,
no street talk at this hour,
Only her breathing now,
suspended in a sighing loop
from where my left hand snakes
from her soft breast
to the goosebumped flesh of her thigh
How did I get this permission?
Where are my qualifications?
Am I authorized?
She allows me in easily
Unencumbered.
Breathless, delicious, wet,
like a deep green forest
She welcomes me home.
She holds tightly to me,
trusting me with her tenderest pieces
while I guide us to the edge
for early morning freefall.
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