I follow with my mouth the small wing of muscle
under your shoulder, lean over your back, breathing
into your hair and thinking of nothing. I want
to lie down with you under the sails of a wooden sloop
and drift away from all of it …
(Excerpt “Love Pirates” by Joseph Millar)
There is something wonderful about the particular gray-green shade of darkness that descends during a late-afternoon thunderstorm. When the street lights come on, the trees bend and bow like frenzied Shakers, and the rain is blown hard against the windows in irregular sheets … I want to be in your arms.