Say It Twice

I never felt as lucky as I felt
That moment, when you said, “Make love to me” —
I made you say it twice, discourteously.
At the bright end of the afternoon, I knelt
And kissed your hands, thinking my heart would melt.
Oh, all of me would melt! At twenty-three,
I sighed, bedazzled, and looked down to see
Your gentle hands, as they undid my belt.

After you left me (after you came back),
Months, seasons passed. Though I refused to pine,
I let you think I did, tried to design
A show of public feeling. It’s a knack:
So many years gone, I still feel the lack
Of your gentle hands suddenly touching mine.