Hurried disrobing in spring,
fingers flying
she protests gently,
we shouldn’t do this
he overrides her with kisses
soft touches and sweet words
smothering over the moment when
rising above her
she cries silently
no, oh no.
Afterwards, her curving body
a reassurance to him
that all is well
she is content;
a silent lie.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
February 16, 1993