Our Bath

You have hunkered down already
when I present myself,
down into a sort of half-womb
of cool porcelain and plumbing.
Breasts swaying, you hunch
to admit me behind your back.
Toetip, toetip, ankle, calf,
I tease the water's steaming heat,
and finally slump, groaning,
my legs around your hips.
My heels massage your crotch--
the water sloshes and splashes.
My penis quits its limp,
half-submerged bobbing to stand,
a great, pink lighthouse
above my rocky shores.
You do not heed its warning,
which makes you the skies; indeed,
man has always striven for the sky.
A storm is brewing.