RED

(an assigned poem....I was to write the color RED)

We stopped
At the Red Roof Inn
My beau, Red,
And I.

We’d heard
It was clean, reputable.
It served
Continental breakfast in the morning.

And it was
And it did.

We checked in
Room 317
My beau, Red,
And I.

Knowing the hygiene of motel bedspreads
We carefully pulled it from the bed,
Stripped off our travel-worn clothes
And gripped each other,
Mixing hot skin,
Red tongue.
Groping a blaze of passion.

My beau, Red,
And I
Slept intermittently.
Waking to fold our bodies
One into the other.

It was around
3:30 a.m. when
Red stumbled to the toilet.

Not having memorized the room
Jammed his big toe
Into the bathroom doorway.

I heard the whimper,
The flush and
Water run into
The sink bowl.

He returned with wet washrag
I held the bloodied thing
Until it stopped throbbing warm red.

The blood, the toe, the pain
Set off another round of
Deep, probing, fleshy, wet sex.

Morning light sliced in
Under the motel
Blackout curtains,
Crept up and found
My beau, Red,
And I
Exhausted and flung
Sideways on the
King-bed.

We rose, showered, and
Stowed toothbrushes
In our travel bags.

Fingers brushed
Slightly,
Blood surged and waned.

Shut the door
Numbered 317,
Wheeled our suitcases
To the lobby.
Smiled demurely at
Our fellow motel guests.

Ate toast with red berry jam.
Sugared our coffee.

And exited
The Red Roof Inn
My beau, Red,
And I.