Savor

Savor

Savor

A Poem by Robert Beveridge

I inhale and each breath is you

deep smell of lust, sweat before sunrise,

hard-earned sleep. I have avoided

the shower today, checked the almanac

to ensure partly cloudy with no chance

of rain before I go buy milk.

 

I raise my fingers to my lips, kiss your shoulder.

 

Your belly is still on my tongue. The heat of the day

releases the scent of your thigh from my neck.

The hard truths of geography cannot fade,

but such small reminders draw you close.

Do We Have To Talk About Kevin?

Do We Have To Talk About Kevin?

New Time

New Time