Wet Hair

By SM Fishman
12/8/00

The steam billows over
the fabric shower curtain
and down the wall,
spreading like a morning fog.

You laugh at me
as the water beads
on your forehead
and drips down your hair.

There’s nothing I can do
but succumb to your
shower, your laughter,
and your steam.
Lip movement decline

By SM Fishman
12/8/00

And you look at me
with nothing to say
though your lips
seem to move
only to move me…

And you hear me
with no reply
through your lips
just the anticipation.

And you inhale me
without movement,
your lips breathe.

And you feel me
with your motioning lips.

Only to move me.