After Words
After the passion,
the nocturnal diving
of sea-creatures
leaves echoes and splashes.
I go into the kitchen;
it is somewhere in the night.
in a dim pool of light.
After sex, the air-conditioner
hums louder,
or is it the fridge de-frosting,
or is it the song of a man in love
with the wordless?
Later, side by side,
fingers lay down
to listen to hands.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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