The stream of the hot shower strikes right between the collarbones.
Skin shudders, greedily swallowing the pressure,
as if familiar fingers are closing around the tilted neck.
Only water.
The seatbelt settles across the chest, tight and heavy,
pinning me to the seat with the firm grip of your hand.
Muscles numb submissively, waiting for a breath by the ear.
Cold nylon.
The collar of the wool coat imprisons the tense shoulders,
settles on the bare spine with your blind precision,
every nerve a spasm, demanding the gesture be finished.
Dry mouth.
Strong espresso burns right through frozen palms,
the heat forces its way deep into bloodless veins.
I close my eyes: it’s almost the temperature of your body.
Bitter dregs.
At night, the dense blanket slips, weighing down the thigh,
mute fabric flawlessly mimics the weight of your body.
I turn to meet it, to hide my face against the chest.
A pulse in the temple.
Body Temperature
23