by Kris Bluth
(11/11/09)

Hollows

The living room lies
dead and silent while
the other bedrooms are breathing
peacefully to themselves.

Now it's time to run
my fingers along
her shoulder blade and graze
her breast as I leave a trail of
goosebumps down under
her waistband and into
the bowl of her hip.

I'm finally brushing
away the cobwebs of day
to clear
a space open
enough for just
the two of us.

Going To The Well At 3:30 A.M.

This is what we
get for falling asleep

naked in Paris.
Now my bucket fills
to the brim but just won't

slosh over the sides
and onto your ground.

I keep on pumping.
Just give me a second.
I'm almost there.

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