The poet has no words for her lover
Gasps are the absence of thought
Green eyes glance, tender lips graze and
cares are petals strewn across her bed

Tower over her lithe and willing frame
and she is bewitched by your fervor
Breathlessly, she traces silent letters
on your neck with satin tongue

Pity the poet, her gift is lost upon every tremble
See how she alights when you cup her face in your palms
As you give the gift of first kiss,
every kiss her first kiss,
hear her pleading moans as oath

Forgive the poet for losing her voice,
You are to blame!
Tickle her feet and her mind rolls to heaven
Press your thigh against her tender pink
and be drenched in her opera of bliss

Your skin is God’s hot sun
bubbling her soul to liquid gold
in and through her hour after hour
pulsing harmonic quivers in her womb
faith radiating from fevered pores

Lay by her side damp from the bath,
food and discord forgotten,
the silk of her hair soothing your chest,
adoration spelled by beating heart

Crawl under the covers
Safe in the still of night her limbs
entwined beside you inside you speak,

{always}

Your poetess has no words,
love lives within her breast
your touch eternally sewn to her skin

03/20/2006

Posted on 03/20/2006
Copyright © 2025 Leslie Ann Eisenberg