July 2004 / Volume Five / Issue Three / Online
Justin Barrett
winter evening

she pours herself
onto the bed
like maple syrup.

her fingers tangle
themselves in my hair,
mine tickle
across her naked
abdomen.

her breath quickens,
her heart skips
a beat.

the moon slips behind
a cloud.

a blizzard will hit
in a few hours,
but right now we are
only worried about
keeping each
other warm.