Moonlight

There's a charm in the way
the moonlight filters through
half-closed blinds so now I can
only see your eyes, now I can

only see your lips meet
my skin in those narrow
strips of pale light that
dance across my stomach and

across my breasts and back
your hands roam, nails pulling
at pleading skin, my hands
tugging at your hair in the
almost unnatural glow and I

wonder if it's wrong that I'm
thinking of poetry while
we're making love, words I'm
too shy to put on paper