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 © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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