Each Silent Reply
©Mimi Wolske, April, 2013
All Rights Reserved
As sunlight played over her golden skin
From the window where she half sat, half leaned
Casually, her coltish legs crossed at
The ankles and her rosy lips smiling,
She was a magnetically appealing
Vision, one he knew he’d never forget.
He knew how to manipulate her, make
Her feel pleasure, pain, shame, and anger; but
Did that mean he really knew her, or the
Secrets of her heart and mind, or the things she
Dreamed of, or the things she hoped for; would he
Ever know the great mystery of her?
Reaching forward, he twisted a grizzled
Curl around one finger, still stunned after
All this time by the trusting way she had
Of offering herself to him, making
His lustful thoughts fly to images of
Throwing her across the bed…taking her.
With her, he was never capable of
Making love in silence, making the act
Purely physical rather than the shared
Emotional experience that she
Encouraged with her passionate moaning
And intimate cries that were revealing.
He steeled himself not to move as her gaze
Wandered over his naked chest slowly,
Appraisingly, as though it was the first
Time she had seen him, and he waited for
That flash of timid curiosity
Before her fingers reached to touch his skin.
The scent and nearness of her came over
Him in a rush and he knew he had to
Have her now; he spoke in Norwegian, the
Soft, guttural words he knew she did not
Understand, his breath burning the skin of
Her neck as he spoke the words of desire.
I want you. I want to be inside you,
And to feel your arms and legs around me.
I want to make love to you and hold you;
And then, before the afternoon sunlight
Fades and the moon shines and we lie sated,
I want you like an animal would mate.
She arched away, her back pressing against
The glass of the window, and studied him.
For a long moment, the only sound was
The soft whir of the ceiling fan before
Her hand found his and she gently entwined
Their fingers and pulled him to the bedroom.