One Hour After

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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
catch
my breath.

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

© Erin Hilder

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About ninian-poetree

I live in a sitcom. No seriously. I share a century home with an Englishman, my part-time sons, a step-daughter who visits every other year or so, a cat named Sophie and the latest addition, Hobart the (stuffed) monkey. I'm a mum, a writer, a teacher and an MUFC fanatic.

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