Slaminatrix

I know very little about you

I know you are a famous writer
that your work is extraordinary
I know where you live
that it is half a continent away from me
I know that I want you and you want me
and you are married
and I am
hot
We both know that you will not
betray your wife
So when we slid naked into the motel pool at 3 AM
when we did that
I didn’t know anything anymore

And when you massaged my feet and you told me this
is how you fell
in love with your wife
I thought I knew
and I said
Let’s go upstairs and lie
naked together for awhile
I said
I’ll be good
You told me later you fled
because you couldn’t be good
You knew you would be very very bad

Now you’re back on the coast
and I’m here in the middle
and we’re tormenting each other in cyberspace
where you have revealed more of yourself
than when you stood before me
skin glistening under a stark Nevada moon

And you tell me this is dangerous
that we must stop
and I know
Then you write me of urgency and temptation
of being
breathless
You are teasing a woman whose moon is full
her bed empty
You know not what you risk

Know that I take your words with me into the bathtub
and we make waves
Your every turn of phrase a rip tide pulling
me far from the shores of reason
for your word is your voice
is your mouth
is your lips is
your word is
your tongue
as you lick
till I come
to your
word

And I know we are being very very bad
If I were ever called to testify
I would have to confess an affair
for though you’ve fondled nothing
more intimate than my ankle
you are seducing my imagination
infiltrating my dreams
You couldn’t penetrate me deeper
with any other tool

Which is just as well because I know
you will never touch with your hands the flesh
you’ve aroused with those words
I know that someday soon
I will rock your boat a little too hard
You will remember what is precious
and you will bail
but until then, I want you to know something

Know that it is a hot, windy noon in Arkansas
Outside my back door
leaves rush through the air horizontally as if being chased
inky, swollen clouds blot out the sun

Know that the neighbor’s hound has his paws pressed
up against the fence
pink tongue panting for my attention
And the cows in a field down the road are a chorus
of bellowing moans

Know that this morning a copperhead reared and
blocked my path through the tall grass and
it looks like a tornado
is fixin’ to happen
in my backyard

© Lisa Martinovic