Thumbprint

Circular steps advancing to the threshold
the curved cliff-face,
the lee shielding the soft flesh of the hill.
Waves caught in permanent stasis
never rocking that rounded sail on the horizon.

A softness that bites my lower lip,
caressing my chin
dancing down the curve of my throat,
where you rest between my breasts
sparking excitement, a loving challenge,

Purple echos on an upper arm
in prints that sculpt a loathing
for your unyielding flesh
her fear
of what is so perfectly you.