A voice echoes,
smooth, firm, loving,
transmitted to
hungry ears.
His rosefingertips
met the skin
of my face
olfactory euphoria
and I felt his tongue
in me, though distant
labial illusion.
Soft and sweeping
the petals of his hands
a replacement
a temporary substite
representing heartbeats
and shoulders and hips
and fingertips...
yes fingertips
hard and unforgiving
in the face of pleasure
but soothing and warm.
And he, the flowerson,
is a whisperman
on the breaths I steal
from life's passion goddess.
He is eternal
though his body double withers. I made love to a rose with my darling's voice.

03/27/2002

Posted on 03/27/2002
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