June Poem A Day: Day 4

My body is covered by

bruises shaped like your jaw bone

and I’m not accusing you of any kind of abuse

these purple/brown line drawings are consensual.

I have always subscribed a love for the

dichotomy of hard and soft.

We were each other’s first lovers,

recently reunited-

we taught each other how to be good at this.

So tonight when we jocky for position

and bite hard after soft kisses,

sending shock scratch waves down each other’s thighs,

I will remember a time when we were both

too timid to kiss boldly,

when we would brush ginger and rock quiet.

We are practiced now.

Broken in by new lovers,

many years have passed since we first

plucked the metaphorical petals off our

metaphorical roses.

We have learned new tricks

with a confidence that could scare off a tidal wave

because we don’t quit.

Round One:

A reunion of our friction,

we’ll call this chapter Reintroduction.

We skip most of the foreplay.

Where you relearn the curve of my sharp pressed hip

and I, the strengthening pull of your forearms.

Round Two:

Fluid motions and movements.

I know you so well that we don’t have to plan

our readjustment,

our shape-shifter tendency.

I feel brave in the darkness of our body quake.

Then we sleep for an hour at most.

I wake up to find your lips exploring my knee cap.

Round Three:

No penetration necessary,

we always liked to do things out of order.

Insert foreplay.

We collapsed into a soggy ball of tired wrists

and lock jaw.

Success.

Round Four:

Morning.

The sun has just peered into our busy bones,

in our grogginess we fumble successfully

into each other.

You tell me my nipples have changed,

they’re different from how you remember them.

I am unsure how to respond to this.

Spent after hours of caloric exertion,

I lay back

warm and open

the beginnings of

purple/brown line drawings forming on

my thighs, breasts, forearm.

You ask me if I will tell you some of my poems.

Round Five:

It is very hard to recite poetry when someone’s

tongue is inside of you,

it is very hard to remember the words,

it is even worse when they stop when you silence.

I don’t think I will ever forget the words in those poems,

the syllables thick,

or our eye contact as our tongues flit and vibrate.