First Drum

Lying on my back, I am
gazing at the second
hand-it hits one minute.
Shit!
A huff escapes my
mouth, only to be interrupted
by puckered lips pressed
deep against mine. My eyeswon't allow me to enjoy-as without
sense of direction, they roam, switch,
flicker around the room.
I’m waiting,
already assuming torture.
When he let’s go
it’s going to hurt.
Soon, I enter the cruel levels of
“ooh” and “whoa” pressure and
“hold up.” Soon, I “whoa” lesser,
am eased until my
head meets wood…so…good.
The tops of vowels are whispered
in between my telling of
who did it, who’s doing it,
whose it is.
…
Laying I am
gazing at the hour hand-
one half hour till I’m late
for work—
“ooh.”
I got time.