Little Sips of Love

Posted on 9th March 2014 in Poetry

there is no word in any language
for the way the words
everything is sacred
out of your lips
as I drank ice from your mouth
on top of me

something between a whisper
a moan a stutter of your heart
like your are riding to a wild death
the path of closest approach
to ecstatic beautality

and poetry of course
complete with
fully orchestrated
signopated muscle twerks
the ring finger neurotically
in spasm like cymbal
left hand clawing at my chest
like a cat weening
the milk it never got

you hips and vagina
sliding across mine
like the bassoon and double bass
keeping a low profile
under the unwinding
of the violence pizzicato
played by your hair

and the poetry of course
you whisper into my ear
about your visions
of fire, destruction, rain
cities caving in on themselves
the mutiny of feral animals
reclaiming terra nullius

red sky and black skin
finding their way back
to suns to make new life
in the next trilenium
fucking god themself
come down to clean up the mess
start all over again

as I slide out from
into you and under you
for a new position in the sky
in each others gravitation field
ellipses eclipsing lips and asses
swimming in sweat
sperm and leucorrhoea
as the orchestra winds down
the poetry deflates
beneath your panting
and we all go home

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