Author Information
Weekend Woman
We made toxic love
Saturday night.
Drunken moonbeams
crept through the window
And our bodies were
swallowed by light.
It felt kind of right
whispering into your skin
those words you absorbed and echoed
later.
And the walls, they shook
with premonition
that soon it would all
transpire again.
You moaned,
I panted.
Everything just went elastic
and your legs, they stretched
beyond the bounds of Time
as your toes predicted the gush
that would rush
through your stomach
and out your thighs;
how your legs cried
when they were invaded
but moments later,
sedated
on satin sheets,
we spoke softly
and in melody.
I only met you last week,
but the music is more than worth
a replay.
You've probably read this by now
and I know from a couple missed calls
that you feel the same way.
