Love Unknown by the Hour

The neon signage flashed its wares
in shadows on wall and chair
as she alone sits on the bed
for him to stand and stare.

With downward glance she slides her hand
to pull at lacy tights
that slither silky sun kissed legs
with a virtue that excites.

Yet each button becomes a lie
to keep his eyes aswim
on juicy fruits he’d taste so soon
from orchards cut for him.

For her husband sits alone at home
uncaring now of games
like kiss and tell he once did play
to make their love as flames.

She’d tell with breathless scant regard
of every harvest scope
so worthless masks became the love
that numbed the pain of hope.

Now unpeeled, she stands and looks at last
to plead in mellow tones
that ripen flesh is left unbruised
and waits for naked groans.

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