Tonight he wraps

his legs around her

back and strokes

the furrow between her breasts

and rubs her belly’s

thickening lip,

and the wind

in his voice stirs

her fallen expectations

as he says again how

he won her once and wants her

still as much, or more, no, more.

Is she surprised

at the unlikeliness of love,

the man huddled up

in his addled bliss,

the enigma of his fragile breath

pulled into the steady

mix of hers, their

fear perplexed by wild

and deft fulfillments?

That development starts

at the top, works down

resisting flight,

the aboriginal hiss

of early light and

harassed dusk, the impulse

shot through to his

splendid eyes when she reaches

for his tail.