Intercourse Will Lead the Hours of Afternoon

kitchen Come sit in my kitchen.
I’ll boil water for cup of black tea
While scones warm in the oven.

Pull up a chair—
Pass stone jar of raspberry jam,
Thick clotted cream….
Already I taste it on your lips,
Sweet as red fruit, luscious
As your brown eyes,
Naked feet upon my thighs.

For now we will talk,
Allow intercourse to lead
To yearning of tender heart,
Dwell in hours of beauty
As shadows of late afternoon
Slowly fade to night.

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