Flash Of Flesh

flash of flesh something in your hair stings like rust. the soot black night? or the scent yet unnamed? or, is it the tickle of the naughty silky strands? i don’t know. but on that rain-soaked night – armskin against armskin, the flash of flesh – under your umbrella, something in your hair stung me. and now: i crave the gasp of hunger in your mouth i crave the surge of longing in your breast i crave the wave of assault in your hip i crave the grip of death in your thighs. a, my dear stranger: like your umbrella, unfold me. bathe my creaking ribs with the organic oil and serenity of your inviolate petal.