Purification – New Poem
I can stand and watch you wash your hands.
The sun rushes to feed the water
flicking over your delicate wrists, tattooed with vines.
You don’t notice me behind you.
I came in quietly.
I like to hear you hum
as though no one else is in the room.
The beauty of the back of your neck,
hair that curls under your small ears,
scruffy bits on the side
you haven’t brushed yet,
can reduce me to tears.
I am thrilled you’re mine and become breathless.
The little shock makes your shoulders bounce up then down.
Excitement whips me and I grab you,
your minty breath on my face.
And I am unable to pause.