Seconds.

[DeityorDevil]

Lightly panted breath
like a whispered prayer in the dark
and the curve of shoulder dimpled
with tensed muscle anticipating
the bow of spine lightly glowing with sweat
And leaning close, it’s in the air
the taste of sweat and leather and release.

Behind closed eyes,
these things become amplified
the faint squeal of skin on hide
blood rushing through ears
making the world sound red,
to a backdrop of fists clenching
rasping like sand.

The inhale of fiberglass in the air
punctuated with the sharp intake,
the pause
of panting.

And the sound of impact
is a thunderclap
and the tingle up my arm
the lightning bolt.

[Anita Blake]

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