One Hour After


One Hour After

You trace your fingers down
the contours
of my side,
raising shivers like braille –
you read me.

Reacting to the arching
of my back,
you reach deeper
and I
my breath.

Lips follow where fingers lead
and we are back
to where we were
one hour

© Erin Hilder


About ninian-poetree

I live in a sitcom. No seriously. I share a century home with an Englishman and a cat named Sophie. Not living with us are my three sons and a step-daughter who visits every other year or so. I'm a mum, a writer, a teacher and an MUFC fanatic.

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