When your deft fingers
Pound out the rhythm
Of an infectious beat
On the taut muscle
Of my left thigh
You enter me.
You’re proven
Your stamina, your virility
Are legend carved in stone
As you chisel out
A two-minute drum solo
On my shoulder
And let your fingers fall
Spent, where they may.
When casually almost
Dreamily, you tap out
The chorus to our favorite song
You are the Morse code operator
Deep in enemy territory
Delivering a message of impending peace
That comforts the dying soldier
And calls the living to quiet action.
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