of: Mornings ^

one more hour, I said, to keep You close
so I can swallow Your coarse hairs as I
eat You out - one more hour, I said, so
I can wet these sheets and wet them
with soap again later - one more kiss,
I said, because it's just Your tongue I
want to taste - I'll ignore my yeasty
presence.        I said, "One more hour,"
because more than I love to fuck - I
want to hold You in My mouth when
I mutter each clumsy, secret word - I
want all of Your pores to hear Me -
And, just one hour, because
      you can pick art apart -
because more than I love you,
         I Love to feel You There.

2007
Reference: Steve Kowit’s In the Palm of Your Hand 2nd Edition, “Poem 49: An Aubade; a short poem about the pain of leaving someone you love after spending a night together” pg 203