Numb Benign

It was not a decent thing, not
A decent way to do it.
There against the wind
On the side of the cabin.
I pulled her hand into my hand.
The sound was her shoulder
Scraping the dry panel
Of shutter
As she came to me.

It was not a decent way,
Knowing she loved me,
That I pulled her in
To smell my chest.
Felt the ripple of her body
On me.
Felt my bottom lip
Against her ear.

It was not decent
With my hands around her shoulders,
Or her tip toed feet
Reaching to me,
Or so quiet her breath
Reaching my jaw,
That I could not love her at all.

But with the pine
Smell in the woods
We lashed our bodies together.
The perfervid swag of time
Held us until morning.

It was not decent
When she was gone
And I wished she would stay gone
The rest of the spring.