this pressure feels purplish
and all i did was stand
from sitting after sleeping
like a bag of sand
on your nubby couch. i spy
swimmers from your bay
window. across busy
lanes of traffic i make
eye contact with life-
guards as you breathe
into my body, save
me from behind. we could
take this outside and i’d grab
handfuls of leaves and needles
from those thick, private
bushes. only rabbits
and squirrels hear us
in effortless euphoria: the hum
and hump fast or soft
as cottontail. even the neighbors
in swimsuit, trunk, and towel
are unaware of our sounds
as automobiles pant so fast
with quickening pulse
down your frantic road.
~~~
K Weber lives and writes in Ohio. Her 4 online books of poetry are in e-book and audiobook formats on her website along with her writing credits.
horny poetry review 