Sunday, December 18, 2011


She lies awake.
On her back, the way she does.
His breath on her arm.
slow rhythm.
Her hands are clasped on her chest.
She can feel her nipples under her thumbs,
and she circles them when no one is watching.
One leg is tucked under the blankets
the other is naked and uncovered,
the way she does.
Dr. Lecter whispers about livers and fava beans.
She adjusts her glasses with the tip of a finger.
She secretly likes her glasses,
but outwardly teases herself
so that no one knows.
She hears his breath, inhale, exhale.
He smells sweet, his natural smell.
It has always turned her on- his smell,
ever since she was a girl.
She lays her head on his chest and breathes,
memorizes his every inch all over again.
Hearing his heart, feeling his lungs.
His fingers following her lines, back and forth,
back and forth.
back and forth.
She can curl just right
and fit her whole self, tip to toe, in the curve of his arm,
A tiny pleasure of being tiny.
He follows her lines
Just a finger
Shoulder, waist, hip, thigh, calf, toe,
and up again.
His breathing slows.
She adjusts her glasses once more,
blowing a wisp of hair from her face.
His finger comes to rest on her hip.
She marvels at Clarice running in heels,
at any woman who can run in heels.
She feels the weight of his body relax,
Little Clarice runs to jump into her daddy’s arms.
She scoots ever so lightly to the edge of the bed,
one toe, and another, so gently to the floor,
and runs,
in her purple lace panties
and her T-shirt about hobbits,
To find her words
And the place where she hides them.



  1. I love this. Such an intimate scene - when suddenly - "I gotta write this down!"

    Been there many times.

    Thanks for sharing this.

  2. get out of my head woman I'm so glad you got the smart part of the egg you can speak for us...I'd gladly take all of the crazy just to hear your words..speak for us..