.
Over the crumpled sheets
my back arches;
hips push
the short silk slip nightie
around my twisting waist.
The thin shoulder strap
is limp around my arm;
its looseness brushes
an erect nipple covered
by a cold sweat.
My body writhes as I try
to keep it all inside.
But the room is too hot:
the ceiling weighs
heavy on my forehead,
and I can't lie still.
I erupt liquid heat,
over the bedside.
Shudders rack me,
and a final spasm empties
my abused belly.
-A. Popp
.