Here
in the wombed room
silk purple drapes
flash a light
as subtle as your hands
before love-making.
Here
in the covered lens
I catch
a clitoral image
of your general inhabitation
long and like a late dawn
in winter.
Here
this clean mirror
traps me unwilling
in a gone time
when I was love
and you were booted and brave
and trembling for me.
