Maybe the magic
was really this: standing
over the tub of rice, the steam
licking its way up your thighs,
moisture building and dripping
from between your legs.
They did say that this was how
you know you are loved:
look at his eyes and the way
he throbs. Imagine hands
forming from the wet exhalations
of your body to reach through
his chest and finger his heart,
raking their way down,
stroking every scratched nerve
so he swells with hunger. Listen
as he growls while reaching
to cram fistfuls of rice into his mouth.
The way he shudders after
he swallows, falls limp. His stomach
always gently distended after.