On vaccination day, sat watching countdown
mute, unwilling to utter consonants or vowels,
sitting deep within the bureaucracy’s bowels,
in constipated anticipation, waiting in turn
for needle prick, our weak human flesh burns
and throbs; hums in time to gears grinding.
Patient dogs of Pavlov linger, undreaming
among constant catcall of mobile screaming,
but I smile, recalling her soft gaze pleading
russet brown, beneath thick lashes playing,
framed by darkest hijab, within parked car,
sweltering like any oven would on hot tar
beneath a smelting desert sun. Tight abaya
cupping and enfolding an unspoken desire,
hands tap-tapping out in code on handbrake
a recipe to stir and cream and slowly bake.
Between us little, nothing but ancient vows
will thwart what shall become soon aroused.
Oh, I can scent it sharp, her forest shivers,
oiled tunnelled rivers perfume flow, deliver
us hard passage, parting sandalwood leaves
like silk, her plantation shudders and heaves.
Bold adventurer, opened wide, lightly split,
holds tight, takes time, to stay it and stay it.
On vaccination day, escaping dreamers roam,
writhing free, where she grasps and moans,
begging us for a little injection of her own.