Consumarti Ossa e Tutto
I wake up from some wild dream, pressed against your figure, smooth as
porcelain in that comforting sable of an autumn dawn, as you place my palm
below your breast. The waking world still mingles with the dream as we move
together in magnificent mechanical motion, each muscle slowly churning in the
cold, each cog meeting its perfect match, until it brings my hand to rest neatly
between your thighs. Your soft flesh, albicocca dolce, split open and dripping on
the bed. My head, buried between your knees, beneath wool blankets and cotton
sheets, the scent of lavender detergent and sweat lingers sweetly in the atmosphere.
Still shaking off the sediment of sleep, I slip back and forth between two worlds at once.
Vivid pictures paint themselves within my mind, like some triptych Bosch, never before
seen, and lost to that ethereal immensity of time. My hands wrap themselves around
your waist and swallow your hipbones whole as they pull you in, consumarti, ossa e tutto.
The sun begins to rise and throws itself through the window as our bodies
settle down, and morning makes more disciplined our movements.
Biography
J. Samuel Thacher is creator and poet based out of Upstate New York. Their poetry has been featured in Silent Spark Press, Logue Online, and Loner Magazine.