Beneath the Storm

@KaremIBarratt

 

 

When the storm passes and the hurricane

Is downgraded, like a naughty child, and the

Curtains of water enveloping us dwindle to

Delicate lattices, and then to nothing, and the

Sun comes out and they arrive to rescue us,

You and I, to save us from the fall and

They are too late, we will pretend nothing happened.

We shall shake hands, friendly survivors,

And go on our way. You to your life,

I to mine, and we shall hardly

Speak of the shack, the sea, the thunder, the wind.

Never, ever, shall we talk about the warmth and the sweat

And the kisses, and that caramel-like aroma

At the nape of your neck. Never shall we mention

The fingers, gliding, glistening, the wetness inside

The four trembling walls, the musk, the moans,

The bites. Never ever even think about the scratches

At the back and the softness of the eyes, turning in,

Lost in an implosion that sounded like screams at times,

Like the roaring of the Caribbean sea, pounding outside.

Never. It did not happen. We sat under a blanket,

That was all. We saw the flash of the lightning through

The broken window. We did not speak much. Just

Waited, in silence. You and I. Did not even asked

For middle names. For addresses. For spouses or mates.

Perhaps there was a slight touch, an accidental contact

Of hands. And hips. Legs intertwining, bodies slithering,

And you were so silky and fresh. Juicy like an apricot

In the early morning. All of you. Tasty and sweet.

Fuzzy in places. Cushy at the curves. Cuddly

And firm, valleys and hills, raising to meet

My lips. And we shall not speak of this,

Once the storm has passed.

We shall not speak again, except for the

Expected pleasantries. The PTA meetings.

Perhaps at the school bazaar.

Mrs. X and Mrs Y, never in first name terms.

Not really friends, more like acquaintances

Who once shared a shelter from the gale.

But the sky is right now maritime, a wrathful ocean

Lashing its fury on the land. Trees brake,

Rivers flood. Husbands and children, safe at home.

And here we are. You and I. Bared, naked, raw.

Two survivors coming alive beneath the storm.