Wendy Clarke © 1999

~~ First Time ~~

Uncertain, trembling - just a bit afraid.

I know I want this, but does he want me?

He says he does, but if so could he be

So in control? It's some sort of charade.

A game I just don't understand. The blade

Of his indifference cuts deep, and he,

While touching every secret part of me,

Remains indifferent! Oh, God, have I made

Myself seem cheap? I tremble and I quake,

And though he holds me, shaking, in his arms

As waves of pleasure rack me, I can't take

Him with me. He's unmoved. And oh, that harms

What could have been so good. Did I mistake

His meaning when he told me of my charms?

Wendy Clarke © 2000

~Afternoon Interlude~

He holds me in his arms, and I can feel

A quiet strength that flows from him to me.

There is no other place I'd rather be

Just now. No need for more. I can't conceal

My pleasure at his touch, for it is real.

Knowing and tender hands roam over me.

They hold and at the same time set me free,

And shake my body through from head to heel.

"Off on another trip up to the moon,"

He murmurs. Does he know he satisfies

A need in me to just be held? Too soon

I am away again. I'm soaring to the skies.

And thus we while away the afternoon

As I warm me in the dark coals of his eyes.

~ Two poems ~

~ Two poems ~