Frisson by Lori Gomez

Frisson by Lori Gomez

It's in the rustle of sheets
beneath commingling

bodies.

In the flood of
liquid plush
baptizing an always
thirsting sin-eater's

tongue.

In the slick of skin
ripened with sweat
seasoned with salt

melting the rime
of better judgment's

hoarfrost.

In the pulse of veins
mapping bodies
with their cartography

of want.

In the flense of your steel
pressed cool and sharp
against my warm

and soft.

In the way you ignore
yet still absorb everything

I say.

A taste
A shiver
A promise
A dream

A delusion
A delusion
A delusion
A delusion