on a dock at sunrise. Naked & dripping, we feast. Ducks float on the pond. Males gleaming green. Females not invisible, but almost unseen with their understated elegance & secret fold of purple feathers. Across the pond, trees glow golden. Soon, we’ll also be alight. Your hand on my thigh, my mouth unfurling like the pink of a water lily. Nymphaeaceae float, but are still tethered below the surface; roots pushing deep in the soil, like your fingers sinking into me.
Approaching footfalls startle us & we slip back into swimsuits. Two men sit on the opposite side of the dock & don’t even look in our direction. Hips touching, you whisper into my ear: I could touch you again right now & they wouldn’t notice. You slide my bottoms aside & I don’t even try to keep my breathing smooth. We’re just two women; part of the landscape.
Raina K. Puels is a queer/poly Boston-based writer, educator, and kinkster. She holds an MFA from Emerson College and reads poems for Split Lip Mag. You can find her writing published or forthcoming in The Rumpus, PANK, Dream Pop, and many other places listed on her website: rainakpuels.com. Follow her on Twitter: @rainakpuels.