This Close by Dorianne Laux

Dorianne Laux

This Close by Dorianne Laux

T.

Reading your letters.

This Close

Dorianne Laux

In the room where we lie,

light stains the drawn shades yellow.

We sweat and pull at each other, climb

with our fingers the slippery ladders of rib.

Wherever our bodies touch, the flesh

comes alive. Head and need, like invisible

animals, gnaw at my breast, the soft

insides of your thighs. What I want

I simply reach out and take, no delicacy now,

the dark human bread I eat handful

by greedy handful. Eyes fingers, mouths,

sweet leeches of desire. Crazy woman,

her brain full of bees, see how her palms curl

into fists and beat the pillow senseless.

And when my body finally gives in to it

then pulls itself away, salt-laced

and arched with its final ache, I am

so grateful I would give you anything, anything.

If I loved you, being this close would kill me.

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poetry