lyric and play, clouds bouncing, sea
in rosies and dip at the shore’s lip
when he came in his sleek quieting
to her fingers – nuzzle, slather
the slippery we of it as she mounted
his soft muscled neck and opened.
Did she look back over the froth
airborne tongue to his ear whispering
nothing but be inside;
and did she later guess the ravel—
rough mountains, black meadows,
ravens scouring the furrowed earth?
Did she look back then, and still want?
