Tonight's Poet Corner: Heat

Heat

by Belinda Roddie

The warmth is something I've missed:

you hold me to your bosom, nuzzle the

bare skin on my neck. The rain makes

confetti outside, and the chill celebrates

its longer stay. I'd like to rest here

with you, under these sheets, for as

long as possible. Pretend that time

has pulled over for a pit stop, slowed

down enough for gossip at the water

cooler. I place my fingers on your cheek,

and the divots and dimples are second

homes to them. This temperature, I realize,

is temporary, and once I strip the layers

away, all the energy we've converted will

escape and hide in the corners and in

the cracked mouths of the walls. See,

the thing is, I know and adore how gay

this is: Our curves are symmetrical.

They connect like the softer edges of

a jigsaw puzzle, or like clay mixed

into a big rainbow ball. I'm still digesting

how much you cherish even the parts of

me that you don't like. Because at least

one of us can kiss the scars without

wincing or feeling trauma's stings.

You hold me like I'm your last lifeline,

draw concave pictures on my body with

your lips, leave dents that combine into

a gentle impression of your fancies along

every part of me that isn't broken. I've

written so many love poems for you,

and yet, not one feels finished. I have

more words to share with you, and

they're still backed up in my mouth,

and when I let them caress your ear,

they produce even more heat.