VOLUPTUARIES
In the Morning I linger
long enough for us to feed our intemperate bodies, again,
too long for a shower before work.
I ride half an inch off my bike seat,
giggle like a proud teenager,
while the wasps you've left inside my jeans
engrave your mid-day bristles down my sticky thighs.
You call me
after I've washed
voice cracking with pluck,
to make sure you haven't left me
too sore.
I balk,
scoff,
prod you,
tell you
not a goddamn chance.
I don't recognize myself
clean and dry anymore.
I take you down a little
and you step right up to the Challenge.
