Poem: Incubate

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #11.)

we linger after dinner
sipping random red wine
slowly spilling secrets
until the clock cries nine

you sit up bewildered by
the unexplained loss of time
thinking there is somewhere
you should have been by now

we teeter to the threshold
searching how to say goodnight
when our lips become entangled
in unexpected explorations

the shock of initial contact
unleashes a flurry of touch
spilling clothing on the floor –
goodnight will wait until morning…

Shall we have a conversation?

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