Thursday, August 4, 2011

WATER'S FLESH (BOOKED)

HANDS HOLD SIGNED
HIS FIRM JAWLINE AND CAROUSELED
ACROSS THE DEEP OF HIS BREAST PLATE
WITH TIPS OF TONGUE DAMPENED FINGERS
DOWN HIS HALF UN-BUTTONED SHIRT
UNTIL HER HANDS UNWRAPPED THE THICKNESS OF HIS SPINE
LOOSENING THE STIFFNESS OF HIS WHITE SHIRT
AND THE REST OF THE BUTTONS
WHILST HE SAT PATIENTLY.
SHE STOOD STRADDLED BEHIND HIM,
HER FRAME COMPLIMENTING HIS HANDSOMENESS
THAT ENVELOPED THE REMAINIING SCENT OF HIS COLOGNE INTO
THE LATENESS OF THE HOUR’S HANDS THAT FELL.
NIAGRA SPRINGS WAS THE WARMTH OF HER BLOODLINE
FLOWING DOWN HIS SKIN
NOW DISTANCING THE MORN FROM THE CHILL OF COLD PIPES.
OF NO LABIRHYTHS MYSTERY WAS WHERE THE KISSES DRAINED
PORTIONING THE SHEETS, INK
THE BLOOD OF THE BREATH OF PAGES
UNTIL COMMUNICATION WAS UNDERSCORED
AND DISAPPEARING ACTS
ENVAPORATED THAT PRECEDED LUST




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