Numb

My eyes lie
abreast
with hers.
I fall back,
rehearsed,
met by iron, cold
pillows.
A smile,
hers,
wide, wet, wanting.

My fingers
taint
where she likes it.
The Moon,
crashing in,
squirm and slither
over her chest.
My hands are numb.

Wide expanse, cotton
shackles,
legs bound.
I quaff,
girl from my mind…

She collapses,
quivering,
same as I.

-Bob Richardson