Pulp: The Glove

You sneak in

One finger at a time and take it off.

The blue knitted cloth

Slipping between us


 

We laid there, silent

Two fishes out of land

Your hand on my hand

The space between us thin


 

It’s silly how a sin

Can be so soft.

Our first kiss, a cross

Between the boundaries


 

You switch between the palms

And pulling at each finger,

Each gentle tug reveals more skin

Before I allow you to go back in


 

One finger at a time -

Until you have removed it

And slipped onto yourself

Proving a perfect fit