Mine by Robert Beveridge


To Constance Plumley

The dusky sweetness of lips
on lips, tannin tang of Malbec
in the back of the throat. How
your hands raise electricity
over my skin. The flawless muscled
thighs you joked could kill a man,
my challenge to you to try. The way
we fit together, your endless brown
eyes with as tight a grip on me
as your hands on my back. Know this:
you are as inside me as I am you.

©Robert Beveridge 2018


Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Chiron Review, Poetry Breakfast, and Third Wednesday, among others.

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