receptive repast

slim fingers float, linger,

at my chest. seemingly

systematically, the responsive tips

of fingers start—slide softly

across my flesh. my cheeks

burn with the fiery must

and desire to possess, but—

i conquer only concession.

i surrender resolutely,

a quotidian quit,

for i am not curt enough

to compose the occasional “no.”

playing hardtoget is a game

i never learned to perform . . .

i’d rather just be gotten.