Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Bowls of Fruit

He came upon me. 
His eyes were inside of mine 
at dinner.
His lips, two perfect pieces of flesh.
There's His sensuality. caught between
what speaks and sees.
His face turned down with eyes, raspberries
burning through You, pluck one and take it for Yourself. 
Juice on the tips and
falling around. Stickiness 
at the point where your chests meet.
Breathing there, in and over again. He
leaves, touching the bottom on your soul.

1 comment:

Bre said...

ooohh! I love this - so sensuous and embodied! Did I mention that Miami also has some very exciting poets - chris cheek and cathy wagner -