Brunswick Road

Freeway traffic
streaming past –
nights seem later
in summer’s swelter.
Every sound
is at my ear.
The streetlight is framed
in the open
the leadlight panes
above it
were made for
nights like
The patterned edging,
a frosted frame,
the heat
that presses
the thick air
against my skin
and to my palms,
thick air
that clings to my nostrils
and goads me
to wakefulness
and tosses
the groan
of restless traffic
to my pillow.
The streetlight glimmers
and gazes
on my nakedness
in a white disarray
of sheets.
Sly light and shadow
play against the
glistening warmth
of my body,
down my thigh
into darkness,
caressing me
against my will.
the night sighs
and its murmuring breath
saturates my senses
until they meld
into the tender kiss
of sleep.

© Cate Kimberley and Word and Affect, 2012


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