For a moment
he held her in his arms,
and it still thrilled him
to feel the familiar places
on which his love for her
had moved, had been comforted.
And yet, she had moved away;
she had something else to do,
her mind far from the pleasure
of an embrace.

Retreating, he felt his body
in a different place
enmeshed with the length of her,
the cool loveliness of her skin
and, after much care and dedication
to the business of touch and stimulation,
she would become unto herself,
unto her body’s own desire.
But , it was not to be,
and he turned to his book,
to page 99.