Ever repeating Sunday

Ritual –

At first wake and stretch

Identities exchange with

One’s Muse

Tangibly – skin to skin

The poet’s fingers waking

From numbness

Slide from his skin to hers

Down her Juno face

Upon her slender neck

Titillating slide and slide

Her warmth will enter

His chest

And his breath

Will become her breath

Upon his own body’s glow

This play of fingers

Turns into a play of lips

Sensually searching tongues

Until his body moves

Between her long embracing

Limbs

Hands entwined in lustful

Rubbing

Soft tongue-twists on red

Rose-buds

Petals open stance for a sweet

Love-route

A poet’s flight of mind –

First Muse’s arching in the

Throes of searing touches

At a lost paradise’s door

Breath-blown aside

Strings of silken gauze.

The long ascend to the

Sacred temple on the deep

Innermost of soft cries:

The burn. The fall. The dive.

Relief.feileR

zoltanzelan

ZJG-Poetry’20.