What he wants

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He lies behind me
His hand grips my ass, my thigh
Lifts one cheek to make room for whatever part of him
wants inside
It doesn’t matter that
my ass is flat
and my thighs are textured
with unshaven hair
It’s my pussy he wants
He rolls me over
So we are face to face
belly to belly
It doesn’t matter that the entire front of me sags
has grooves like wide-wale corduroy
bears witness to infants birthed and fed
It’s my breasts he wants
He turns my face toward his
presses his lips to mine
opening to share our breath
our flavors
It doesn’t matter that my face is spotted and lined
deep grooves on either side
It’s my mouth he wants
He lowers his body onto mine
into mine
watching me all the while
It doesn’t matter that
my eyelids are fragile
my wrinkles flowing
like tears
from the corners
It’s my eyes he wants
He moves slowly
filling and retreating and filling again
his eyes locking with mine
his hands entwined with
mine
It doesn’t matter
that I am older
my hair grey
It’s my gasps he wants
It’s my pleasure he wants
It’s my
soul
he wants