In short hours I was 1500 miles down the coast, home, still in my work clothes.

at day's end in your foyer

I remove not only my shoes
but my blazer, its hidden breast
pocket full of my day’s mirrored
glances. I lean into your steady
wall-stance. Waist un-banded,
hook slackened from eye, zippered
jaw loosened. My opalescent shell
lifted overhead. Everything until then
was knee-high and manageable.
Bra and panties matched and then
fell to your cold unfinished floor.
You start then, smoothing out
the elastic grip imprinted
from sandal, the red line
across my nose-bridge, the seams
I had accepted as my own.

-- K. Keener