Sweet Heat

Love Tanka #11
(I believe I’m up to 11…)

We don’t talk about
the humidity—sitting
in his lap, panting
like dogs. He suggests no clothes—
A wink. I chuckle, he smiles


I step out of the shower,
Wearing only a towel.
I take a sleek, black dress from my closet,
Bring it to my chin, and
Imagine you behind me
To whisper in my ear
How beautiful I will look in it.
I’ll let the towel fall.
You’ll hold the dress at my ankles
So I can step in.
You’ll pull the straps over my shoulders,
Zip me up tight,
Place your hands on my hips, whisper:
“See, I was right.”
Then I’ll turn around,
Stroke your goatee,
Gaze longingly into your eyes, and
Kiss your cheek.
It will be perfect.