The night is still young (and incendiary) in Lee Ka-sing's photograph. In my poem, A Palm Quickens, the night is moving along rapidly, is indeed hectic with consummation:
A Palm Quickens
she falls back
onto her bed
in a drift of sugar
he stays as vertical
as a candle flame
she has one marble foot
on the sudden floor
both are astonished
at his being
permitted to see her
in this solitude
needful
shiny as a fish
he drinks
just as the water
is running away
she inhales
ocean air
her palm quickens
