A good sex life is as sacred
and ordinary as a shower.
I undress and step in,
giddy every time.

I know what’s coming,
anticipate water,
count on it to come
and make me wet.
It does.

Drip drop steam
holds me naked
keeps me warm,
asks for nothing.
Predictable generosity
makes me give
every inch
in return.
Repeatedly.

Heat.
Steam.
Moisture.
Coming at-over-in.
Eyes open-closed
bodies
swaying,
standing.
leaning back
getting down
soaping up
or washing down.

Hard.
Soft.
Gripping walls.

The beat of water
untangles knots,
bridges distance
cleanse-releases
in ways we know,
trust,
expect.

Routine,
but not ho hum.
Regular,
but not boring.
Predictably fantastic.
Showers. Love. Sex.
Sacred. Necessary. Intimate.
Transformative.

The steam of our sanctuary.
Flesh. Home.
I can’t stop
breathing in
you-this-us.
I always return
and return
for you.

Don’t pity the couples who retire early.
They are not always sleepy.
Notice the way they graze an arm,
flash a smile and reach for one another on the stairs.

In the privacy of their mastered love,
one steps in first
to turn on
water.
The other drips.
You should be so lucky.

Relephant:

Music From a Marriage. {Poem}

~

Author: Christine “Cissy” White

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/Chad Miller