Angle of repose

It is only by degrees
we arrived at love's central core.
One by one, like layered loam

scraped off bedrock
ready to support
some institution's graying weight,

we peeled lesser habits away.
Showering together was first to go --
your breasts streaking my chest,

mouth nuzzling lips,
spray erasing suds
I'd laid on your chin

with one bubbled stroke.
Late-night dinners went --
Bach swirling amid candled shadows,

your head snuggling in crook
of chin and throat,
our humming moistened by bordeaux,

dual notes drifting mixed
amid concerto wafting upward
cooling in waxened smoke.

Sleepy hours together turned fetal
became hug of knees --
no more pressing for warmth,

nose resting against neck
as breath ebbed and flowed
in perfumed hair,

thighs molded to derriere:
Instead, one morning caress
final layer removed

yielding granite for our love
together. At last
we had a fine foundation to build on.



Timothy Pilgrim