1:33 A.M.

by MELISSA FRY BEASLEY

I’m awake

Thinking about the

shape of

the feel of

building the need of

your tempting lips.

Would they be

hummingbirds hovering

the languid temptation

of a kiss

or slow

running sweet sap

thick in winter

August heat

an ice cube melting

against my skin

taste of honeysuckle

and spring rain

smell of peaches

afternoons making love

as the sun watches.

Melissa Fry Beasley

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