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.
If you dream your world of sensation quadruples…ZJG