For Time’s a Thrifty Whore
Boxers round ankles, making murmurs I held you. Kissed you.
A radiator clung to, I heated the bed.
You grabbed my thighs. Eyes undressed me though I was bare.
A smile upturned my mouth.
I memorised every angle, shadow of your face.
Washed my mind of everything except how you’re made.
My finger followed the bones down and lingered there.
Hand in hair you leant to me eyes closed.
Nooked neck I breathed a beat of wind against skin, tongued round lobes,
hands massaged the back of your neck. I was home, there.
I pecked a sweaty row of caramel. Stick after stick after stick a list of verbs,
no nouns, just doing words curled up in your collar bone.
Two bodies bound, bow-tied
by jigsaw hands.
Could have lain there forever but Time’s a thrifty whore.