Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Bench Press

Brash gust of music
on languid mornings pour
chiseling somnolent breaths to a sigh.

Eyes closed
grips awake to your touch.
Hoary memories
in tense calculated controlled
pectoralis excitement reside.

I feel you through your cold seams
your sheen
fine crafted metallic sleepy cold.

Clasps firm on the holds
the carnal within
awakens to a hold- a press and a lift.

You are racked again
probably ready for another try.

But I am done
glistening in sweat
I heave a sight.

~ A

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