Eating Strawberries In the Dark

All night the blush and cooling, the rush of making love again, night light pouring its milk across the bed and later eating strawberries in the dark: their red flesh so bright they flash in the mouth when with each bite the teeth bisect one to its inside white star-shape. The moon going down pales the room to a watery milk. Only a slight flush in the sky. Star-filled, love-bruised, moving apart, we enter again the warm loam of sleep.