Thunder God

for the Winter to come

They were wrapped around each other in the shallow end of a Latin American pool adrift in the moonlight. The pool was distant from the hotel through a screen of cultivated jungle, trained creepers and canopied palms, deserted now, empty and alone and silent except for the water and her breathing. She closed her eyes and followed his mouth down through their bodies and across the pool and into the jungle and then everywhere and opened like her eyes and there he was in the moonlight and her arms to pull back his head.

The clouds forced them inside.

She pulled the curtains off their hooks and opened the windows to let the moon in and the heavy wet breezes of the storm. Cool on their skin cool on the sheets heavy with humidity, fingers raked across back, her teeth in his shoulder. Lightning washed out their shadows and the thunder cracked so close the glass rattled in the windows and she was wild with the moment.

And the rains poured down and except for the rain and her breathing the night was silent again.