LOVE BITES

LOVE BITES


My wife bites me
to make me scratch her
back side and inner thigh.
I try.
“The itch is on the other side” she says
and bites again.

But I too bite, my nails
so the scratches are not so deep
they score.

“Ohh”, she says, “that’s it, that’s good.
Don’t stop.”
Her teeth still close upon my neck.
DON’T STOP!”

She arches her back
reaching for the satisfaction
of an itch well scratched
and bites again
just to feel me squirm.

But…

my fingers linger and transform
from garden rake to make
long soft furrows up a warming thigh.
I read her sigh and shift of weight
as latches falling from a garden gate
and with a tender tread I take
one step upon the path
and catch my breath
as she lets me linger there
until…
she bites.