Evaporated

Evaporated

Your kisses are like eating dust
rusty is your touch
your belly’s sand, a desert,
passion in a rut

A cactus, sturdy succulent
surviving, without rain?
Lovelessness your expertise
it’s haunting me again

So longing for that lusciousness
the green, the moist, the wet
lips that once were everywhere
orchids, humid. Sweat.

For limbs that move like poetry
in unison, an ocean
your waves sweeping over me –
window condensation.

Our grounds have turned into a swamp
mosquitoes are now breeding
once a secluded paradise,
of nurturing and feeding

Squelching mud between my toes
clammy hands and irritated
the once steamy window panes
have all evaporated

Frances Livings © 2011

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