In Arms Still Warm

I dreamt your flesh
draped across mine, cell to cell,
Like grass on the undulating earth.
Tiny blades of lust
crept along the carpet
tickling the forgotten into wakefulness
and I could hear my own moaning;
a hunger as plaintive as an African infant’s plight,
deprived of sustenance for far too long,
shrinking and shriveling, starving and wasting.
But I dreamt your hands entering into my skin
removing the dark aloneness.
I awoke with a start
lying in arms
still warm.