Turn the Air On, On

Besieged by the need
To come into your lair
And rest my head
On coarsely bred hair

Turn the air on, on
I’m breathing in heat
A breathless conception
A woman in need

The pulse crashes
On the edge in waves
But don’t stop the tide
To desire, not save

Turn the air on, on
I’m breathing in need
A breathless conception
A woman in heat

© 2011 April Prichard