Fire

Our lovemaking blinds
me with orange light. Sacral
chakra. It overwhelms
and envelops me.

My fiery lover’s touch burns
hot on my breast, belly, cunt ‘til
I am tempted to look for scorched
flesh, witches burn, branded.

I drown in molten rivers, heedless.
Clammy skin sucking, breast
flattened against breast.

Our lovemaking cracks
the ice of our midwinter sheets.
Melting the frost on
the windows for the duration.

(c) Liz Willows 2000