Moistened a poem for the (Monday Melting)

sopping towel cool

lessened combustible bather,

slap of cold drew down

the heat,

heart still pounding

beneath saucer breasts,

a backhand

spread last of water

and suds as they spiralled

down the drain,

she has used many a riposte

to his passion,

samovar steamed,

naked arbitration

would have others askance,

their love had not softened

or bottomed out,

it remained resolute,

a crag ,a precipice

of dangerous desire