She came on like a storm
is one way of putting it.
And, as if in a hurricane,
I was blown away.
Now, I’m deep in it,
snowbound and gagged.
No, not gagged; she enjoys
that thing I do with my tongue and teeth,
as it negotiates weather patterns
on the back of her neck.
And when the heat of my body
gets close to her chilly frame,
it’s like the fault line
between a high pressure system
and a low—cold north air
clashing with warm southerly
moisture, leading to a strongly
rising nor’easter of pleasure.
Not all weather is inclement,
you just need to know the right
weatherman, and which way
my wind blows. And, if we’re lucky,
we will ride out the storm until dawn.
Scott Edward Anderson is the author of Falling Up: A Memoir of Second Chances (Homebound Publications 2019), Dwelling: an ecopoem (Shanti Arts 2018), Fallow Field (Aldrich Press 2013) and Walks in Nature’s Empire (The Countryman Press 1995). He has been a Concordia Fellow at the Millay Colony for the Arts and received the Nebraska Review Award. His work has appeared in the American Poetry Review, Alaska Quarterly Review, Cimarron Review, The Cortland Review, Many Mountains Moving, Terrain, and the anthologies Dogs Singing (Salmon Poetry 2011) and The Incredible Sestina Anthology (Write Bloody 2013), among other publications. He lives in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife, Samantha, and their blended family. Learn more about his work at ScottEdwardAnderson.com and connect with him on Twitter @greenskeptic.
Image: “RIP” by Anthony Burt
Pine Hills Review 