Glassed streets shine like jewelled stone
beneath a flooding, ceaseless rain
Hooded humans hurry home
Autumn shakes the window pane

‘A dirty night,’ you say to me
‘I’m glad we’re inside where it’s warm.’
And yes, we’re safe, though you can’t see
the first waves of an inner storm

It rages when you use your touch
to end resistance, strip me bare
The feel of you; your breath is such
a warm wind on me everywhere

Later, bedlocked, when we kiss
I hope I am at one with you
‘I always want to be like this,’
I tell myself, to make it true

Ten-thirty – by the bedside light –
you’re spent. Across my belly lie
small beads of passion, glossy white.
You softening against my thigh

Like wind through eaves, I'd heard you moan
Our half-lit bodies shone with sweat
But afterwards I feel alone
and wonder if you love me yet