SPARKS

by Bryan Borland

There’s something about rearranging the furniture
that really turns me on,
the controlled destruction of familiarity,
that sledgehammer moment of no going back,
then soon you’re sliding across the carpet on knees lubricated
with the sweat of creative energy,
delicately peeling away layers of existence, opening up the space
to wall-flesh never before caressed
with decoration or open-mouthed kisses,
pushing bare hands hard against the sofa fabric,
leaving thumbprints
indented in its skin, inching
corner to beckoning corner with grunts and groans,
muscled, twisted legs and contorted bodies 
struggling to make it all fit inside
until everything finally comes together
with a growl of release,
the monotony broken,
a bit of living room kink
to paint everything anew.

 © Bryan Borland