Don’t you ever ponder
how I was naked also during you with me exclusively wrapped
crouching knee to knee, elbow tip to elbow tip
drenching ourselves in wantonness in front of the small and ineffective gas heater
without a clue to unwind itself for us?
Too quickly I hid my recovery after grappling with the enormity of the flowers you sent me
their stalks embedded especially for mother’s day in a green polystyrene casing
were meant for my admiration
but only produced my anxious speculation when imagining cruel hands of lovingness
around the soft throat of the not so innocent.
You wooed me and in readiness you polished your tools
while thinking about the bible
you did not expect for him to remain as one with you
when you came silently and shamefaced
your head dripping between my breasts.