Litkicks Message Board Archive

retrospective passion

Posted to Poetry

the grains pressed
into my back, my legs,
the rivers of
my naked skin

exposed to you
and everything else

even outside, on the shore
with the waves and the breeze
we were sweating,
pungent and slick

you could smell our passion,
we could taste it

the sand stuck to me
for days afterwards
i would find it in my bed
little streams of what was

i pressed them back onto my skin,
for later