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we were both struck, thunder sounded,
lightning struck to see us touch
and stroke ourselves. His impulsive hands
neglected me until I breeded enough resolve
to say, “No lover before has ever let me see him.”
Then I chastised his trust by showing him the way,
and his hands helped me grow from girl to woman.
I would’ve bargained with the devil himself
to have loved him first, or him alone,
before I’d lived to become a skeptic of disbelief,
that he has come this late, or has come at all.
Now we wake from wild nights and shrink back
everyday fears that our lost and found bodies live.
I woke this morning after we had slept so still,
His arm across my hip, held all night in his hands,
and thought I still slept and dreamed, until
his dozy fingers pinched me back from doubt
that I haven’t stolen someone else’s life.
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