Summer storms <br />are the perfect setting for all things erotic. <br />When the flashes fill the room, <br />we curl close, like milk-fed kittens <br />thinking of how soft each other’s skin would be <br />without the cloth. <br /> <br />Libidinous curiosity, <br />delicious impetuosity, <br />all in a room that ignites in short bursts, <br />affording quick, rhythmic glimpses of <br />our nakedness; we dance like natives, <br />lunging like beasts while salting our skin. <br /> <br />Voltaic scars on the starless skin of midnight <br />arouse the lust for fear which fuels us all. <br />We are awake and aware, <br />pushed back into our insignificance <br />by the most exalted of voices, <br />cowering and yet, full of fire. <br />All of the rules, <br />save those beyond our will, <br />have broken at our feet, <br />leaving us strangely sovereign, <br />in a world where skin and blood <br />possess no authentic power. <br /> <br />Sanctuary breathes under the covers <br />when the cosmos begins to break <br />into jagged, portentous pieces. <br />We are certain of nothing; <br />we are only comforted by <br />the touch of bodies, <br />sparking in the dark. <br /> <br />When our eyes begin to close <br />there is only the peace of black <br />despite the howls and the clamour, <br />and we are stroked and soothed by it, <br />this ominous, elysian lullaby. <br /> <br />Our delusions are spoiled, <br />but we know we are breathing.<br /><br />Tara Teeling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/earthlings-in-july/
