"Oh, she's out hiking" and I melt the handle.
Distant fingers dart among your friendly breasts, and
I cannot fortress you.
Trust is no match under a sensual psyche,
ever trembling and flaccid, glancing
for the others in your slips.
Both foreboding the sunset, I watch your back under lowered eyes
as you squint for your island, sighing, grasping the nearest hand.