My Hands Approach Her

sliding over her shoulders
fingers gliding: strings
on an electric guitar
pulling back her hair
to reveal summer skin
sticky from a muggy day
my lips closing on her neck
tasting the salt of the night-tide air
nails enclosed in my hands,
children’s hands grinding 
through sand to build;
her eyes close, tight
the eclipse from yesterday
appearing in shared minds
the touch of each other
like the desirous apple,
crisp and swelling
with knowledge.

Are you ready for Monday?

in paradiso, ego sum