Hairy Happiness
The woman watches him. He’s at the sink
Inside their hotel room. She notes his arms
And shoulders most. She thinks of manly stink
In black-haired armpits, glossy in the harms
They do to heart and guts as she succumbs.
He’s washing them with water and with soap.
The suds will wash away. The armpit numbs
Her self-control. She wants to lick and grope
With mouth and greed his underarms, their dark
Insouciance. He pulls his jeans on, but
She pushes him back on the bed, his stark
Hirsuteness spread before her. There’s a glut
Of lust behind her teeth and in her nose.
Desire for hairy him expands and glows.