Helpless

The gray-smoke of your eyes
pins me against the wall and
before I can object
the warm tip of your finger silences my lips,
barely parted.

Like a delicious glacier
your hand creeps lower,
leaving a trail of empty buttonholes,
the fresh gleam of a zipper...
my eyes close,
my heart opens.

Your clothes evaporate and I gasp
at the rippled gold, the dark brown curls.
The sight of you alone is enough but
then your face steals mine
your heart heals mine
and a mythology of flesh
I never knew
makes a legend of us both,
the boundary between our skins forgotten.

At dawn,
the sheets are flooded by our own golden light.


John Starnes  1985