Strangely so,
we turn nightly
face to face
lick each other's cheek
like animals
tasting their own
Have I missed anything?
Were you gone for a moment?
An explicit scent of tobacco
fills the bed
and I guess that you've been thinking
tapping your smoke
against the tin ashtray
Come morning I learn
I have stumbled
upon some foreign language
you could not translate
something about your hand
inside my panties
I could not justify
Copyright © 2005 Nicole Poirier
| Nicole Poirier is
a freelance writer from Canada. Other poems are scheduled elsewhere
for online publication. She describes herself as eccentric; adores
cats and driftwood. She is currently writing and editing her first
book of poetry. |
