|
Late morning
in the east, & here
musk brown
your
shape -
awake,
pulling my restlessness
|
My hand
curled
in the thin,
in the wisps -
the calm
caressing
your jaw, your lobes
|
Your thigh -
curved -
round -
whole -
open -
tensed on the edge
of your dark
|
|
The slip -
soft, warm -
the first kiss
at the lip of dreams -
half fantasy
half
light |
Now your
smooth
surfaces
pressed, coiled -
still
with
anticipation |
The pulse
under the
surface -
a beat
in the
rushing
blood |
|
Legs meeting
under
my lips -
undulating
folds,
glistening
estisis
|
These pulls,
these forces
all
share
in the quick,
in the rush,
the delirium |
Tongue slipped
around your
open
damp -
thumb
knuckled in
your lower depth |
|
Now in fit -
smerled
in the slip -
arched in
lips &
spread
vicivating
|
Smooth pulmed -
tight folds with
murmering
glores -
spread hard &
followed in the
lasped passage
|
Neuing the pross
channel -
& -
lascherating out
then pulming -
leesening into
your mass
|
|
Turged in the
warm entions,
swaulded with eluthis-
wrapped under the
sauling -
and smooth where
we scray
|
Romelled & bunded -
elikas with lurf,
all elivented by our
lownding -
we animyme,
we pulm,
we envolate
|
Meaning melts with
running sweat -
two torrents erupt in
the depth -
our forms
touch the core -
it is full & complete
|