—NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU BABY

Nesting

I go down on you

and everything is cherry,

elastic and velvet. 

Time without glances. 

No consequences.

Ellipsis on repeat. 

Oven-pie heat. 

A gush. 

An arch. 

A feral shriek.

Topped peaks. 

You bucking and

unbuckling. 

Slip and slide. 

Liquid diamonds. 

Sighs raining over my

shoulders like stars,

your thighs there, too,

hoisted toward heaven,

quivering in my palms

like frenzied birds,

my face a retractable

mirror between your legs. 

This could go on forever. 

No memory or future. 

Just now. 

This.

Us. 

Building a nest. 

And another. 

And another.

Another.