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43.  Spy Games

 
I like your flesh
Wet beneath mine,
Pastel forest irises
Begging me not to be unkind,
Your hands pawing frantically
At something just out of reach.
 
I like your sentences in fragments,
Your language unintelligible.
I like your breath shallow and fast.
I like the dog-mindedness
Of your unconditional love
Whimpering scenarios that cannot last.
 
I like the way your eyes dance
When you call from the war
As if you are so smugly sure
I'll be aching for your fingers on my spine
Should your country be defeated by mine.