The Thundering Dark

Two o’clock in the morning
Thunder rattles the panes
Vibrating bottles of perfume and cologne
Loosely arranged on the dresser.

My eyes fix on a point
Deep in the night.
Her presence flavors the room
Steady breathing at my side
Her right leg thrown across my thigh
Pinning me to the sheets.

My mind is already at my desk
Making mental notes
Of tasks needing completion
Calls to make
Files to close.
But she’s so distracting
Inviting
All the pleasures of the flesh
The joy of the shaking night.

Just a nudge would wake her
The trace of a fingertip across her throat
Kiss upon her chin
A promise waiting the welcome.

In the kitchen my cup waits.
Hot, strong coffee will steam
In just four hours
When I will miss the sleep
That eludes me now
With her leg
Thrown over me
So inviting
In the thundering dark.