At Last Poem by Karen Siewert

As he presses her back against the floor
The rhythmic creak of the wooden floor boards amidst the heated air reverberates throughout the mostly empty barn

The pressure of him atop her creates pink marks the length of her back
Marks she won't notice until later

Dust motes catch in the sunbeams slanting through the wooden slats of the barn walls, as if dancing in celebration
Things that before had just been below her level of consciousness suddenly make themselves known:
The dry stick smell of old hay tickling the fine strands of her nose hairs
The juicy green aroma of freshly mown grass
The chorus of a million grasshopper legs rubbing together in unison
The warm syrup of perspiration dampening the hair at the hollows of her temple, as it slowly slides toward her ears

In this singular moment comes another
One she has fantasized about since she'd begun to notice the smooth curve of her calf, a thickening of the dark hair between her legs

The soft rasp of work-roughened skin against her nakedness blends with sounds of nature
He inserts his tongue between her lips, gently pressing against them until he is breathing her in
She'd never understood that such a simple thing could expand inside her and change the core of her being
As she feels his hardness sliding against her delicate, sensitive flesh, his mouth fluttering against the bony ridge of her collarbone, her breathing speeds up until she is gasping for air
Moist air exhaled from his nostrils twist the hair at the base of her skull into a shape it has never been before
'Ready? ' he whispers.

And then it is done:

gone like a whisper shouted in a cavernous room

Childhood completed
Another created