we study deep tissue burns
and i stir at the way
that small gold cross
and chain,
accentuates
the soft area between
your breasts
as you lecture
in the late morning.

we break for lunch
and i meet you
in the hall way,
your brown eyes
and smile
capture my soul
and take
my breath away...
you always have that effect.

in your locked office
i release your hair tie
and your beautiful mane
cascades
as we lock in
heart pounding embrace
starch blouse, skirt
and bra,
quickly removed
you lie back
on the carpet
and beakon me
to lie above you.

in the tangle
of heated embrace
those small white
panties
become the first casuality
as you arch to
tear them off
and cast them
to some
forgotten place.

in growing moment
i kiss your neck
and the smell
of expensive soap
and flowers
fills my world
as you reach to find me
and guide me,
raising your knees
as i enter...
you are warm, wet and delicate.

i rise and fall above you
as that scarlet rash
we often joke about
appears once more
in the soft area
between each breast,
i know that when both sides
meet
you will
cry out my name.

i know you are close
but the distractions
are multitude,
and yet you are
so very near
I gently reach down
and guide your
right hand
there...
between us
you look into my eyes
as if seeking permission,
i kiss you deeply and force down.

the rash spreads
and touches
as you arch your back
and raise your legs high
while i smother your mouth
with mine
to quieten the sobs,
and all the while
vivaldi
plays in my head
from some distant corner
of your office.

later, i kiss away the tears
as you
look up into my eyes
and whisper
'thank you'
we quickly gather our strewn
possessions
and dress,
with no time left
to shower,
and it takes so damned long
to find that hair tie.

in the early afternoon
we study penetrating
gunshot wounds
and i stir at the way
that small gold cross
and chain
accentuates
the soft area between
your breasts
as you lecture

the rash
quietly fades
back
into the outer reaches
of your camisole
and beneath
that expensive soap
and smell of flowers,
i know that
you my lover
are still...
so very
warm and damp.


Mike Subritzky 2001 - 'Judith Rose Passion Study'