You kneel, body held erect
Like the Catholic schoolgirl you used to be.
My eyes are drawn, as always, to the hollow of your throat.
If I should lay my fingertip against it
There’d be the fluttering pulsebeat
Of the wings of a nightingale, in its gilded cage.
You have grown thin, and your fragile collarbone
Stretches through your silken skin,
Seeming like it would snap
At the touch of my hand.
I step forward, brushing your chestnut hair away.
It falls behind you, baring a gentle fullness of breast,
Small enough to fit in a cupped hand…
Taut with anticipations.
I lean, and press a kiss on one hardened nipple.
You arch, soundlessly as I taught you,
And I drink in the elegant curve of your torso,
with your slender arms stretched back,
clasping your ankles firmly.
I start rubbing the other nipple with my right hand,
While I increase the pressure of my kiss,
Harder
and harder…
Until finally you break, as always, and the tiniest of moans escapes.
I stop.
Reach out and caress the supple whip.
Regretfully, joyfully, anticipating the new lines of fire
That I will add to the thin, white, beautiful scars
Crossing your eager body.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
8/23/92