He's Dangerous
.
Cold metal trails
down my spine
soon it is cold no longer.
.
He puts down the gun
lets it rest on my lower back
like his missing hand.
.
Warm lips on my shoulder
soft for soft words
and perfect for lies...
.
Heavy hand cups my face
I turn
I seize him.
.
The gun falls to the sheets
behind us
forgotten.
.
Not forgotten by him,
though...
he's lying on it.
.
Puts the gun on the bedside table impatiently
loud clunk
back at me.
.
He's on top now
he bites my throat
teeth just indenting the skin.
.
Perfectly controlled weapons
so many weapons
he IS one.
.
I writhe
trap him with my legs
his back arches
.
He feels so good
heavy and warm
Russian.
.
How can I feel, 'Russian'?
he is, though.
I can feel it.
.
Dark shadows in his hair
winter nights
snowflakes on his skin
.
I feel him
I know him
I have him.
.
Fire
I can't think
fire in the darkness.
.
Am I blind
I see nothing
my eyes are shut.
.
I grip his shoulders
both hands
strong
.
His arm twines with one of mine
an anchor
shaking
.
He cries out
it's not a word
it's not my name.
.
But it might as well be.
and then for me
as well.
.
Falling
falling
and the bottom is soft.
.
Dazed
we look at each other in the banded light of the streetlamp.
far far below.
.
we are alone
lifesblood pounding in our ears
(and) I breathe again.
-end-
A/N: Written 6/14/99.