Sweat, iridescent as dragonfly wings,
distorts my blush, leaves my cheeks as open
questions. Ask me the purpose of coming together,
if not to unknot the shadows
& I’ll smooth the sheets atop my skin—
guide your fingernail over the dahlia & delphinium print
with just enough force to make my thighs
bloom. Below the fabric,
a bouquet wraps my leg—a scarlet trace translating
floral into fire, as if pain serves
as the afterimage of pleasure. I rake your spine, leave
you tucked inside,
shivering beneath the covers, as if chills serve
as the afterimage of heat.
Lorrie Ness is a poet in Virginia whose work can be found in numerous journals, including The Inflectionist Review, THRUSH, Palette Poetry, Dialogist, Trampset and Sky Island Journal. She was nominated for multiple Best of the Net and Pushcart Prizes. Her collections, Heritage & Other Pseudonyms (2024) and Anatomy of a Wound (2021) were published by Flowstone press.