It is the way you move in the shower that lightens me the way
you turn on one foot step forward run one soapy hand down
over breast and belly step towards me as I sit and watch
on the edge of the tub I the village and you the savior
with palms thrown at your feet step towards me. How the water
courses over you some drops adhere to luscious curves and saunter
downwards tongues of leisure cleanliness lust desire
without shame and some drops hang upon you on fingers
nipples nose and wait for small time before they drop away
but all ends in the same place the black devouring mouth
of drain tongueless and always cold.
You the soapy visionary popular with drops of water you
my wet savior nonslip palms at your feet you the burnished copper
goddess worshipped by all moisture hair pulled back and face
turned up to heaven and how grace descends through six floors
of apartment above us and suffuses you glints off beads of water
stray unrinsed soap bubbles your eyes your lips. How you look
so goddamn sexy in water and white porcelain. How the act
of purity ablution absolution makes me want to take you once again
under this water add my purity my tongue my desire
without shame to you. How we kiss press together under
heated spray how the mirror fogs deeper how your legs around
my thighs grip hold fast how you are as wet inside as out how good
it feels to be inside you how good it feels
somehow the towels feel like enemies afterwards
