Women relish the hushed absence of men.
Our desire for them in temporary abeyance
unwatched unappraised unafraid unknown
they celebrate in more ways than we know.

Like Hopper’s yellow-haired prairie queen
exempt buttons undone naked now and then
they noon pose in shadowed doorways
fusing sunlight and flesh -- scenting wind.

Midnight they loll sipping warm lazy rain
tracing trees tapping leaves trading places
posing in wine-shadowed doorways naked
tasting and fingering long slow rivulets from God.

Women cherish the hushed absence of men:
it is not always us they are thinking of.