an ordinary couple who, with affectless involvement
and preternatural facility, strip each other
of their lower garments from opposite sides
of a table with their tight-socked feet
and bring themselves both
to climax using the same
during tea and some ritual
morning reading –


her left heel massaging his cock to grow – her head carrying
her eyes to the ceiling whenever a phrase in her book refracts
her life like a cathedral window refracts the will
of a dead architect – as absent-mindedly
as a super-absorbent polymer bath toy
siphons its environment

his right big toe around the zipper of her pants – him sipping a mug
and perusing the news all the while – beginning to pull
as the advance of an alpine lift,
in another direction,
performs to step-wise juice
the potential energy of skis

her toes together in parallel curling around
his jeans to yank them off before they double back
to first undo his fastening button and fly
with a quick precision irregular to choices made
with such statistically blunt instruments

his right heel pressing into the dividing point
of her legs as made tangible by rougher fabric
to immediately relate to the softer covering underneath –
her underwear wet like the wet of an exchange of attire
still conveying the residual damp of an escaped rain

her soles pushing up his bulge like clay
shaped in burial and now set to be glazed –
his hard-on like the surrender of a wire
to the electricity of uninterpretable messages

his left sole on her mons as his right foot
bunches the last cloth against her most convenient thigh –
her clit as sensitive to rushing air
as lungs on mountain peaks

her ankles orbitally rubbing his shaft
when she drinks ginkgo and smacks her lips
in echo of a falling branch

his larger metatarsal bones closing the gap
between blood and muscle – her sex dosing
pleasure at the rhythm of prime numbers

her top nail pricking his glans just so –
his orgasm the crease his paper folds upon

his remaining motions the screw of a gale –
she comes like a navigator newly maps

her syntax, a vector

his letters, a curve

— Collin Hull is a multi-disciplinary artist and independent researcher. His work may be found here: collin-hull.squarespace.com and here: artworksgod.substack.com

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