First, one eye, then the other, opens lazily.
A faint smile rolls across his face
as he surveys the outline of her body.
Out of the end of the crumpled
white sheets, her feet unfurl
their crimson-painted toes like a fan.
Her head lies upon his chest, her neck exposed
and eyes closed, while her auburn hair
mingles with his.
A small gold crucifix, loose on its chain,
hangs just above her right nipple
with a raised profile of a figure in agony.
A potent hint of her perfume in his nose,
mixed with the taste of her creamy love
on his lips, seeps deep inside his soul.
He couldn’t imagine how, once upon a time,
Sunday mornings came to be spent
in repenting of the ecstasy of unions such as this.
