The Pearl Diver

Snow squeaks between
the rubber tread of my boots.
Ten o’clock, half a mile
walk home after work.
Dish suds freeze white
against my denim pants.
With my fingers still pruned
and numbed, I fumble
with keys at the door.
Inside an orange blade of moonlight
catches drifting dust.
Piles of clothes haunt
the floor like pale ghosts.
A giggle comes from the dark bed.
I slide my icy hand
beneath the comforter
along a warm thigh
which flinches and she
gives a muffled shriek.
My finger explores deeper
and seems to melt like an icicle
back along my arm.
Greek islands float
from the stereo speakers.
As I taste the fruit
wrapped around her seed
the winter room turns warm
with ocean breezes
and we walk in sandals
down a white dry cobbled road.

by mj smith

My response to HA’s dVerse Poets Pub Tuesday Poetics: Desire and Sexuality in Poetry

27 thoughts on “The Pearl Diver

  1. I can’t help but think of my partner’s reaction when I stick my freezing cold feet into some handy nook to warm them up. You create a lovely picture of cold, and then the shriek of meeting the warm…

  2. How comforting and fuzzy it must be to come from winter cold into the warmth of bed and body. Love the contrast of the season from winter to the warmth of the ocean breezes. Thanks for joining in.

  3. Ooh, I love this stepping into the home and hearth and thereby the bed of desire and love from the cold exterior — the contrast acting unto itself the symbol for lovemaking, and a kind of a transformation from a material to a creative energy too, from the hard labor of walking in the snow after work to the music, sandaled walk and ocean breeze inside that cocoon of warmth.
    Layered and more exciting in its flow and rhythm! Thanks for participating. 🙂

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