restrain me

I pull, in vain.

Expert knots, stopper knots, but you would let me free, I know. If I asked.

Or would you make me beg? I wish for this, for your desire to keep me here, at your disposal.

I wish for your desire itself, pure within the context of possibility.

I am here, love, open. I percolate. I wait.

Dark–no, light, still more light–in the au-delà, where you have always found me.

I wish.

I may.

I might.

resist me

Resisting you is futile.

I knew it then, that first smile, when you glanced at me across a crowded room, watched me cross my legs and watched me look down to straighten my skirt, then look up, to look at you, looking at me, you.

My words twist, convulse, as I lie back on a soft morning, my dressing slow and luxurious, as though I had nowhere in particular to go, though I am dressing to leave for the day. I have nowhere to go, I wish, but to fall back into bed, with you, your dream, you, not here, somehow here, soon here. Your voice drifts off as words turn to meaning. You know what I mean, exactly. You are here.

I wonder, at the time, daylight savings, time lost, time spent, time waiting, time I could say I devoted to you, to desire, to the mere wonder of a moment, lost, spent, awaited, devoted, desired, a moment. One more. That’s all.