Poetry

SAVIOUR

Her teal gown falls

down, settles around

slimly sculpted ankles,

a rippling pool – pooled.

Ethereal neon – flashing,

enters through

curtained windows

into the midnight room.

Jesus Loves You, carved

in the soft wood of a bedside

table, blinks

on/off.

She loves me, she loves me not.

Thinking of daisy chains.

A fluffy duvet remains bunched,

scrunched at the foot

of the frameless bed, wondering

what to cover. The bottoms of his feet

show pink from scrubbing.

Splayed out like a snow-angel

against bleached sheets

he beckons,

a nod of his curly, coal

head. She floats from her

pool, swan-like, crosses

the room to him

in the middle. She is not shy.

Chocolate skin reveals

no blemish, in the blink of light.

In the blink of light, her

nipples firmly

announce the coming,

arms raised to touch,

arms raised in divine desire.

She drapes her body over

his, like down-filled satin

until he is covered – smothered

by her warmth. He wants her

to smell like the bittersweet

chocolate that she is. Instead

her scent is of dark earth

after a storm

pungent, sweet.

Their two bodies, in unison

rise/fall until walls

shake. He thinks

he has been saved. He thinks

he has seen the light. He

has (only) risen.

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