Mangoes and Lemongrass

I feel you peel yourself unwillingly from my back,

hear your soft pad, the

shower starting, the

muffling of its noise as  your

body intercepts spray, your

soft humming of a

nameless tune, the water’s

modulation as you bend for that

gel that smells of

mangoes and lemongrass.

 

I wake to the soft “shush’ of a drawer, the

clip-clip of a bra, the

hush-hush of shoes, the

bristly rush of hair

being brushed, the gentle

indentation of the bed turning

lips to loving lips, the quiet

snick of the door, the

taste of your lipstick, the

lingering scent of

mangoes and lemongrass.

 

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Comments

  • Agatha-luise  On May 2, 2013 at 11:44 pm

    Very beautiful Steve. A very sweet poem! I must say I expected about a poem about things in the kitchen. Stupid phone won’t let me like it, but… Like-like-like!

  • lifethroughblueeyes  On May 4, 2013 at 6:49 pm

    This has the feel of expensive sheets and a brioche of morning sunlight. I wanted to be able to read it, with my eyes shut x

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