Sinners

In our wake

The litany

Of our clothes:

We never even

Reached

The Bed.

Our

Sighs and Moans

Spill

Into the shadows

Like

Secrets.

And

It’s not in

Post coital

Clumsiness

Or even in

The

Ridiculousness

Of a twisted sock

In-side-out

Pants.

It’s Afterwards

Back in the

Party

When

Holding

His

Hand

You won’t

Meet

My eyes

That’s when

I

Feel

It:

SINNERS!